Maîtrise
by infamouschelsea
Summary: Maîtrise. A member-only cocktail bar full of secrets and mystery. When college graduate Anastasia Steele is desperate for work, she applies for a job at the newly opened bar. But what she discovers there will turn her world upside down. Expect explicit language and adult themes. (No Ana or Christian deaths. No Cheating.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Hello Everyone,**

**So I'm making the leap and jumping into the world of AU fanfiction. I don't really know what to say at this point, just that I hope you like this first chapter. :)**

**For those of you following my other story, The Good Will Come, I am still working on that. I haven't abandoned it. I just wanted to try something a bit different. I'm hoping to update both TGWC and this story simultaneously. However, as some of you might know my schedule is a little hectic, so I hope you don't mind delays!**

**Again, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm working more!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

_Maîtrise._

_Invitation only cocktail bar, the latest in the Esclava chain. Vacancies available. Experience essential._

I looked over the advertisement for the hundredth time. The edges of the page are torn from my constant fidgeting, and the ink has smudged in a few places, the remnants of it pressed into my thumbs. It's safe to say I'm nervous. Terrified, even.

I came across the advert yesterday morning, after scouring the jobs section of the previous nights' newspaper. Every morning I check the papers for any new vacancies, trying to find something I haven't already applied for. I'm desperate for work and way past the point of being fussy. I've applied for cleaning jobs, babysitting, admin… but it's been pointless. The most I've received back is a kindly worded rejection letter. When I saw this advert I jumped straight onto my computer and emailed my résumé to the name on the bottom of the page. So what if I'm an English major with a 4.0 GPA. We all have to start somewhere, right?

I graduated from Washington State University eight months ago and I haven't had a single interview. It's a tough economy for graduates. It's not about what you know these days, it's about who you know. No place wants to employ someone who spent their college days working in a hardware store. They want someone whose daddy can help increase annual turnover. Like my best friend and roommate, Kate. Her father brokered a deal with the _Seattle Times_ in order to get her an internship there. My father is dead and my step-father is ex-marine, not a businessman. When I finished college, I joined Kate in Seattle. She had a spare room and I thought I'd be able to find a job easily. I was so very wrong. Since I moved here, I've been living off Kate's wages and generosity.

My bus rolled to a halt and I looked frantically out of the window, realising this is my stop. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the front, quickly jumping off, my feet hitting the pavement hard. I thought I heard the driver laughing at me before he drove off. I scowled after him. I really hate getting the bus but I didn't have enough money to fill up my car. My bank balance is closing in on zero and gas is a luxury I can't afford right now.

I walked slowly along the sidewalk, trying to smooth down my plain white blouse and maroon coloured skirt. I caught sight of myself in a store front window, pausing to double check that nothing is tucked into something it shouldn't be. _I look okay_, I think to myself. My hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail and I only applied a small amount of mascara to my lashes. I'm not confident with makeup. I've never been artistically inclined, as my mother so frequently says.

The short walk from the bus stop to the night club is pleasant enough, but my stomach is rolling so fast I feel like I could throw up any second. I can feel that cold, nauseous sweat spreading over me. I'm not familiar with this part of the city. It's the expensive side of Seattle, where all the rich kids hang out. I had to check the address and route online when I got the call last night to say I had an interview. Before reaching the tall, black, mirror fronted building, I counted at least seven other night clubs. None of them look like the type of places I've been to before. Admittedly, Kate had to drag me to them but still, this doesn't look like the sort of place where people are throwing up in the streets at three in the morning.

The front of the club is overwhelming, the mirrored exterior enough to disturb my nerves even further. You can't see inside at all, only the street reflected back at you. It's like there's something to hide in there… Above the door is the word Maîtrise written in deep red, the letters curled and calligraphic. I wonder what it stands for. It looks French. I did two years of Spanish in high school and failed it miserably.

"Steele?"

"Huh?" I snapped my head down from the sign, hearing my name being called out by a gruff voice. I found a tall, broad shouldered man standing in front of the now open door.

"Steele?" He repeated, a little more firmly this time. He frowned at me, folding his muscular arms across his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tightening and digging into his flesh. His hair is jet black and his eyes almost the same in colour. "Are you here for the interview?" He slowed his words down, talking to me as if I'm deaf.

"Yes, yes I am." I nodded, taking a step forward. I rocked on my heels a little. I'm wearing a pair of Kate's high-heeled pumps. I didn't have any shoes suitable for an interview. I'm a Converse kind of girl. The shoes fit me fine but they're starting to rub the skin around my heels and toes.

I pushed out my hand to him and he shook his head disapprovingly.

"I'm just here to show you in. This way." He nodded backwards, inside the club. I gulped hard, feeling my throat growing dry. He stepped back and held the door open for me. "Well, come on. I haven't got all pissing day. I've got stuff to do."

"Right, sorry." I said rapidly. I rushed forward and teetered into the building. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the interior.

Everything is black, dark wood, accented with blood red furnishings. The floor is dark parquet and shiny. The walls look like velvet, like they're not even real. It's much larger inside than I imagined, with a gothic staircase at the back leading to the floor above. The mirror theme is dominant in here too, at least one ornate fixture hanging from each wall. My face is everywhere, pale and looking timidly back at me.

The bar fills the centre of the room, like a giant circle with the middle full of bottles of all different colours and sizes. It's an intimidating sight. I can feel my heart racing in my chest.

"That way," he makes me jump, coming to stand just in front of me. He pointed to door on the right. I looked around and noticed that there are several doors spaced out around the room. "Just go straight in. Don't bother knocking. She's waiting for you."

"She?" I repeated. "So you're… you're not interviewing me?"

"Does it look like I've got time to do that? I've got to get this place ready to open." He fired grumpily at me. I clenched my jaw. "Just hurry up. You don't want to piss her off before you've even met."

He waved once more towards the door and then disappeared around the bar. I noticed piles of boxes on the bar top. He didn't look up at me again. He began tearing open the boxes, ripping apart the packaging, breaking the eerie silence with harsh, whipping sounds.

I shook off my wayward thoughts and approached the heavy, decorated door. It's carved with strange markings of things I don't recognise or understand. I didn't knock. I just pushed it open and inhaled a sudden, sharp breath.

Behind a long, mahogany table sits a slender, middle aged blonde. Her platinum coloured hair has been pristinely sleeked back into a bun, freeing her face from any obstructions. Her expression is blank, the only movement being the pursing for her thin, crimson lips. I stared at her for a second, until she glanced up at me.

"Miss Steele, I assume?" Her voice addressed me coolly, with frustration locked away in it. I nodded. "Well? Come in. Don't just linger in the doorway." She huffed and tilted her chin down to her desk, where a laptop is open in front of her.

The office is large – probably too large for just one person. The walls are a similar shade of red as outside, but adorned with several pieces of artwork. Not a mirror in sight. The painting directly behind the desk is the largest and depicts a woman leaning backwards over a table, her face squirming and twisted. She looks in pain…

"Sit." She snapped at me, looking to the lone chair opposite from her. "Now."

I stumbled forward and collapsed into it, immediately dropping my satchel bag to the floor. I made a quick apology but it was frivolous. She ignored me for a long while, tapping away on her keyboard and humming small sounds to herself.

"Erm… d-do you have a copy of my résumé?" I asked her finally, when the silence became too much for me to bear.

"Yes." She answered abruptly. She stole her eyes from her computer and looked to me. She arched her sharp brow. "Not very impressive, is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Three and a half years employment at a hardware store?" She read off a lone piece of paper on the desk. I recognised it as my résumé. "You sold wallpaper and power tools? Did you even bother to read my advertisement, Miss Steele?" She almost growled, leaning forward against the desk. I found myself subconsciously leaning back into my chair, to get as far away from her as possible.

"I –"

"I need someone who can serve drinks and waitress, not a happy-go-lucky schoolgirl who can ring up a register for the maximum purchase of fifty dollars."

My cheeks started to burn.

"Why the hell are you wasting my time?" She lifted her chin higher, cocking her head to the side. "I explicitly asked for someone with experience. I assumed any idiot would realise that meant experience in bar work."

"I knew that's what you meant." I uttered meekly. "I just…"

"You just what?" She teased.

"I just really need this job, Mrs…" I paused. _Shit, what was her name?_ I crunch the advertisement still in my hand, now soggy from my sweaty palms. I looked down at it, trying to make out any names.

"Lincoln. Ms Lincoln." She told me. "It's a very bad sign when you can't remember the name of your potential employer, Miss Steele." She huffed.

"I'm sorry," I shook my head. "But I really need this job, Ms Lincoln…I know I don't have experience but I'm a quick learner. And I'm good with people. My previous employer will vouch for that... I will work any hours you have, for any rate of pay. Really, I don't care. I just really need the money."

I was begging her. I've never begged anyone for anything. I've never been that sort of person. But right now I am. I never thought I would be prepared to get on hands and knees, pleading for something, but I've reached that low. I'll kiss her feet if it'll get me this job.

"I need this job." I continued.

She paused and looked over me, her eyes meandering up and down my front, from my shirt to my hair. She made a clicking noise with her tongue and then looked back to her computer.

"You can show yourself out."

"What?" I gulped. "Is that it?"

"What more is there to say?" She shook her head, oblivious. "You have no experience. You're no use to me."

"But –"

"But nothing, Miss Steele. You've wasted both our times coming here."

"Then why did you invite me for an interview?" I half shouted at her.

"I thought I would humour you." She smirked, her eyes staring wickedly into mine. "I could have wavered the experience but, putting this frankly, you simply do not fit the _profile_ I am expecting of my employees."

_Profile? What's that supposed to mean?_ I glanced down at my shirt. It's crinkled in places. I didn't have time to iron it properly. I was running late this morning.

"So you can leave now." She told me again. The coldness of her tone made me feel two foot tall. I felt my stomach sink down into my core, grief spreading through my body. I couldn't move. I felt numb.

"I need this job." My voice broke in the middle. "Please?"

Her eyes remained on her computer. She didn't shake or nod her head. She just sat there, transfixed by her screen and the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard. She looked up only as the door behind me opened. She smiled to whoever was standing there.

I took that as my cue to leave.

"Goodbye, Miss Steele." She dismissed me.

I rose unevenly from the seat and picked up my bag from the floor, flinging it over my shoulder. I turned quickly towards the door, practically racing over to it. I kept my head down. I didn't want her to have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

"Sorry –" I blurted as I bumped shoulders with the man standing in the doorway. I looked up from the floor for a moment, but my vision was blurred so much that all I could make out was a black suit. He grunted a noise but I was long gone before he had the chance to shout at me.

I ran out of the building as fast as my feet could take me. The fresh air struck my prickled skin. The tears came crawling down my face as soon as I was ten feet away from the door. I hunched forward, feeling a pain in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I've just been punched.

God, I'm useless… I can't even get a shitty bar job. Four years in college, a shit ton of debt, and what do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing.

I stand still for what feels like an eternity, moving only when I stopped crying and managed to pull myself together. I straightened my back and pushed my hand into my pocket, reaching for some cash. I counted the small amount of coins and sighed… it's not even enough to get the bus home.

"Great…" I sniffed, wiping the back of my hand across my face. "Looks like I'm walking."

I kicked off Kate's shoes and threw them into my bag. It took almost thirty minutes to get here by bus. God knows how long it'll take to walk back.

* * *

"So how did the interview go, Annie?"

My step-father's voice tickled my ear. He sounded so happy. He was overjoyed when I told him about the interview. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was only for a bar job, so I let him believe it was for one of the publishing jobs I applied for a few weeks back. I don't want to tell him how badly the interview went. He'll be crushed.

"It was okay," I lied, gnawing at my fingernails. I dug the phone into my ear and prayed that he wouldn't be able to find the deceit in my voice. Ray Steele is like a sniffer dog – he can spot bullshit from a mile off. "But I don't think I'll hear from them for a couple weeks. Look how long it took them to ask me for an interview." I forced a laugh. I sounded false, and I knew Ray had picked up on it.

"Oh." He paused. "Annie?" his voice softened, becoming whisper like.

"Yeah?" I mimicked his tone.

"You are okay for money, aren't you?" he said with concern oozing from him. "I mean, I can transfer some cash into your account if you need a little extra this month. Just enough to tide you over, yeah?"

I sunk into the couch, wishing for it swallow me whole.

Since I came home from the interview, I've hauled myself up on the couch with my comforter and the remainder of the icecream from the freezer. I showered as soon as I came in, needing to scrub the tears and disappointment off me. It was dark when I finally got back, and my legs were burning from the walk. I took the long route home, too scared to walk through the side-streets and alleys. I freaked myself out, thinking that I was being followed. I convinced myself that a car was following me. Every turn I made, it appeared behind me, at a crawling pace. It only disappeared when I turned off into my street and rushed to the front door, opening it quickly. I stepped inside and looked out, watching the black car speed off. I didn't get a look at the driver or the licence plate.

Kate text me earlier, to see how I was. She reminded me that this isn't the end of the world, that she can sub me more money, but I don't want pitying. I don't want people throwing money at me. Call me Elizabeth Bennet but I want to earn whatever cash I can. The last thing I want is to be a charity case.

"Annie? You still there?" Ray's voice broke me from my thoughts. I could envision him sitting forward in his armchair, putting his hand on his knee, his heavy brows furrowing in the middle. "Annie?"

"Yeah, still here." I said quietly. I closed my eyes. "Dad –"

"Things are real bad, aren't they?" he cut to the chase. I've kept the dire state of my finances a secret from him, making out that I had a lot left over from my last paycheck from Claytons Hardware Store. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Dad…" I nodded against the phone, feeling a new swell of tears creeping into my eyes. I know what he's going to say. He's going to tell me to move back in with him – move back to Portland. "Dad, I… I…"

A loud beeping pulsed into my ear. I pulled the phone away from me and saw an incoming call waiting. Caller unknown.

"Hang on a second, I've got another call coming through. Probably something for Kate." I pressed hold on Ray and picked up the unknown caller, sniffing back my emerging tears. "Kate Kavanagh's phone."

"Err… I'm calling for Anastasia Steele." A male voice greeted me, gruff and familiar.

"This is she."

"It's Cal. From Maîtrise. You came for an interview today." He told me. I nodded. It's the guy from earlier. His voice is the same side of angry as before.

"Oh, right, I wasn't expecting a call back." I mumbled. "Ms Lincoln didn't… well, she told me her decision earlier."

"Yeah, whatever, she told me to call you anyway." He shot back. "You start tomorrow night. Be here at eight thirty on the dot. No later or you're out, you got it?"

"Wait, what?" I pushed off the couch, sitting up far too quickly. "I… I got the job?"

"You're on trial for a month. If you fuck up, you're out the door, Steele." He warned me. "I don't have time for wasters. I'll be responsible for your training. Ms Lincoln's told me that if at any point I see you struggling, I'm to cut you loose."

"You must be mistaken." I shook my head and brought my hand to my mouth. "Ms Lincoln said no earlier. She said I was wasting her time."

"Maybe she had a change of heart…" he sniggered. "You want the job or what?"

"Yes! Yes, I do."

"Good. The uniform is all black. For girls it's a black button up blouse, short sleeves, with a knee length skirt and plain black pumps. Stockings are preferred but not essential. We supply the uniform. I'll send someone over to your house tomorrow morning. Ms Lincoln guessed your size. If it doesn't fit, call me ASAP and I'll get something else to you." He reeled off. I nodded along silently to him. "Hair must be clean and tied back at all times. Makeup needs to be discreet and minimal. You got all that?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Eight thirty." He reminded me. "Salary is to be determined. We'll pay you at the end of the night. We'll work something out for next week. That's if you last the night."

"Thank you… Thank you so much." I rushed the words, my tongue struggling to get around them.

"Don't thank me. You wanna thank the boss." He said quickly before cutting off the call. For some reason, I didn't think he meant Ms Lincoln.

I sat still for a second. I feel uneasy for some reason. Like there's something I'm missing. A catch or something…

I looked down at the phone and took Ray off hold.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**SuzB** – Thank you, my lovely! I'm glad you liked the first chapter. :) Hope you like this one, too. (Also, glad you like the title of the club!) Much Love x

**Bree** – Thank you! Hope you like this one, too. Much Love x

**Christian618** – Glad you liked the intervention in the last chapter. ;) Hope you like this chapter! Thank you! Much Love x

**LA** – Yay, thank you, LA! I'm so glad you liked it! :) I hope you enjoy the journey! Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thank you, Ellie! So glad you're looking forward to more. I hope you like it and it lives up to expectation! Much Love x

* * *

**Wow, thank you all so much for the comments on the last chapter, and for even daring to read it! I'm glad to see so many of you liked it. :)**

**Hope you like this chapter. Just to reiterate, please bear with me if there are delays - working full time and writing my other FSoG FF is taking up a lot of my time, but I am dedicated to this story too. I will post updates whenever I have the chance. I promise!**

**Much Love and Many Thanks,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

"Ana, I swear to almighty god, if you don't come out of the bathroom in the next ten seconds I am going to piss all over your bedroom floor!"

Kate Kavanagh. 22 years old. Such a wonderful way with words.

I sighed as she rattled the door with her fist a few more times. I'm leaned forward over the basin, stealing myself just a moment in a bid to compose myself. Anxiety has condemned my stomach to nausea. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to stand upright, facing the mirror head on. I look paler than usual, the black of my uniform sucking all and any colour from my skin. My hair has been tamed into the mandatory ponytail expected of me. I had to battle with it for almost twenty minutes, my long brunette locks refusing to submit without a struggle. I added a hint of Kate's pink blusher to the apples of my cheeks, hoping to ease some of my deathly appearance. I'm not convinced it's helping.

Kate huffed outside the door, her dragon like breath signalling my final warning. I shook my head and left my reflection in the mirror, heading to the door. Kate barged past me before I even had chance to leave the room. Her sweat pants were already around her knees and she was grappling with her underwear. We have lived together for almost four years now and there is little by means of boundaries between us. I have seen and heard things that no person should ever have to endure. And peeing is definitely up there. Along with animal like sex howls in the middle of the night.

I moved around the living room, making my way to the table next to the couch. I lined up all of my belongings on here earlier, to save me rushing around just before I leave. I picked up my wallet and phone, and shoved them into my bag. I paused.

"Have you seen my keys?" I called out to Kate, unable to see them on the table.

"Check the bowl by the door." She shouted back at me, over the flush of the toilet. I went to the door and rummaged around in the mosaic fruit bowl we use as our key tray. It was a gift from my mother. It's hideous – a horrible concoction of green, brown and mustard – but we had to make use of it.

"Thank you," I mumbled as I picked up my keys. I pushed them into my bag and grabbed my jacket from the hook.

"Holy mother of Jesus…" Kate whistled as she came back into the main body of the apartment. She stopped abruptly in her tracks. I turned to face her and found her delicate features contorted. Her mint green eyes widened, looking up and down my front.

"What?"

"Ana… what the fuck are you wearing?" she inhaled a jittery breath. "You look like the grim reaper just exploded on you."

"Thanks. That's exactly the look I'm going for." I huffed, shoving my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. "I didn't choose the uniform."

"I thought you said you'll be working in a bar? Are you sure it's not a funeral parlour?"

I saw the first hint of smirk rise upon her face. I rolled my eyes.

I know I look awful. Black just isn't my colour.

I was almost excited when the courier arrived at nine a.m. this morning with my uniform sealed in a black dress bag. I knew it was all-black attire, but I was hoping to see a pop of colour in there somewhere. I found red on the soles of the shoes handed to me in a chunky white box. Kate mumbled the word Louboutin to me as she fawned over them. It meant very little to me. The shirt is much too tight for my liking, clinging to my body, the buttons threatening to burst open any second. I'm worried about moving too fast just in case I expose myself. The skirt is no better. It sits modestly at my knee, but similarly hugs my thighs, restraining me like a straightjacket. It fans out into pleats towards the hem, meaning I can move my knees a little. Without it, I'm afraid I'd resemble a constipated penguin.

I pushed my feet into my new patent shoes, wriggling my toes into place. I shuffled on the spot for a moment, checking the height and fit of them. They're surprisingly comfortable.

"Are you ready to go?" Kate asked, drawing my eyes up from my feet. She's putting on her trusty denim jacket. I nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive me? I don't mind taking the bus." I reminded her. Over breakfast this morning Kate offered to drop me off and pick me up after my shift tonight. She complained about the idea of me roaming the streets in the dark.

"Of course," she smiled sweetly, pulling her blonde hair into a simple bun on the top of her head. She's only been home an hour and instead of partaking in her usual Thursday night routine of a bubble bath and glass of wine (Fridays are party nights, apparently), she changed quickly into some sweat pants and a tank top. She swapped her own high heels for some sneakers.

I said another word of thanks to her and stepped outside, waiting for her on the porch. It's a typically cold January evening. I shivered and hugged myself against the wind.

"Do you have everything?" Kate joined me on the porch. She locked the door behind us and jumped down onto the driveway. She unlocked her Mercedes and I raced to the passenger's seat.

"I think so," I nodded. Once inside the car, I checked my bag again. I mentally ticked off everything in there. I've brought everything with me, just in case. I've even got my passport, in case they want proof of identity or something.

Kate fired up her car and reversed out of the driveway, turning the heater onto its highest setting. After a few minutes I could feel her eyes on me, instead of the road.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm okay."

I lied. I'm stupidly nervous. I don't know what to expect. It's the first night the club will be open to public, which means it's going to be super busy, right? There's got to be a list as long as the Great Wall of China of customers waiting to sample some of Maîtrise's finest. I'm also worried what they'll all expect of me – the other bartenders, Ms Lincoln, Cal. Maîtrise is a classy bar. They'll expect perfection. Anyone this side of Mars knows I'm far from perfect.

"Don't sweat it, Ana. It'll be a piece of cake." She nodded and smiled, pulling the car to a stop light. She rolled her head to me. "It's just serving drinks, not brain surgery. You'll pick it up in no time, I know you will."

"I wish I shared your optimism on that one." I sighed. Kate jabbed her finger into my arm.

"Hey, you'll be fine. Your shift will fly by. Before you know it, I'll be picking you up."

"I hope so." I formed a half-smile and settled into my seat, slugging down into it. I folded my arms across my chest. I just hope I can make it through the night without breaking something.

* * *

"You've been here fifteen minutes and you're already wrecking the place. Are you fucking kiddin' me, Steele?"

Cal frowned a disgusted look as he slammed into the back room – the staff only area. The door swung back on its hinges. It's a spacious room, holding two leather couches, a fully equipped kitchen area, and a long dining table with eight high-backed chairs surrounding it. I'm sat at the head of the table, holding my hand up high, trying to stem the steady flow of blood trickling down my arm.

"What the fuck happened?" he asked, stomping his way towards me. When he reached me, he grabbed my wrist and tugged it down. My hand went limp as he pulled away the towel I pressed into my palm.

"I dropped some glasses on the floor." I told him quietly, wary of his reaction. "I tried to clear up the mess and, well, I cut my hand."

He poked around the wound in the centre of my palm, shaking his head at me. He hummed a noise.

"It's only superficial," he groaned. He tilted my hand towards the light overhead. "You won't need stitches. Go run it under some water. You need to make sure there's no glass in there. I'll grab the first aid kit."

I rose from the chair and moved over to the sink, pushing my hand under the cold water faucet. I winced as the water struck my cut. The blood turned pink, swirling in circles towards the hole at the bottom of the basin. It was mesmerising for a second, the moment disturbed when Cal slammed a cabinet shut. I looked over my shoulder and saw him dropping a large blue briefcase on the table. He popped open the lid and rummaged inside it.

"Come sit down," he told me, scraping my chair back from the table. I let my hand drip water across the floor as I moved back to the table. I sat down on the edge of the seat. Cal drew a chair to me. "Give me your hand."

I offered my hand and he grabbed the blooded towel and dabbed it across my palm, mopping up the water.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. My voice is muted and he didn't bother looking up at me. He kept his dark, almond shaped eyes on my palm. I looked down and examined the cut for myself. It really isn't that deep.

"It happens to all of us sooner or later." He shrugged it off. His New York accent is gruff and lead-like. He pulled some antiseptic from the box, poured some onto a piece of gauze and placed it over my palm. It didn't hurt. "Once I've cleaned and covered this, you can go home."

"What? No." I shook my head. He lifted his chin, looking up at me through his thick, dark lashes. "No, I'm here to work. I'm okay. You said it's just superficial. I'll be fine." I rambled. He stared at me for a few seconds before turning his head down to my hand again.

"Whatever," he shrugged his shoulders. He pulled a band-aid from the box and stuck it down onto my palm. "If you're going to stay, we need to run over some basics. Listen up, because I won't repeat myself."

I swallowed hard and sat up a little straighter. I focused on him, making myself aware of every word.

"I'm the manager here. I'm your immediate boss. It's my job to keep everything running smoothly, which means I'm going to be all over the place. I don't have time to watch over you 24-7." His voice oozed authority and sternness. It scared me a little. "I have a list of rules that you need to stick to, okay? It's for your own safety, no one else's."

"Okay," I nodded. I felt a sudden wave of nerves crush over me. _For my safety?_

"One – you're here to serve drinks, clear glasses, just your regular bartender stuff." He began wrapping a bandage around my hand, tightening it after every turn. "If anyone asks you do anything other than that, just tell them you're a bartender. This is an invitation-only club so we won't have too many perverts or drunks rolling around, but if you do get someone being too friendly with you, just come find me. I'll sort them out."

I didn't like the way he said 'sort them out'. Looking at his roughened knuckles, I can tell he's a fighter. He certainly looks the kind of guy who won't put up with crap off anyone.

"Two – if a customer asks you to get something for them that you don't understand or feel comfortable with getting, leave it to me."

"What kind of things will they ask for, other than drinks?" I narrowed my eyes and searched my brain. "Drugs?" I shuddered at the thought. "Will they ask for drugs?"

"Fuck no! You think I want crack or meth floating around the place?" he shook his head and grumbled at me. He didn't want to elaborate on what might be requested. "Three – don't ask questions. You'll want to ask questions; it's only natural. But don't. The customers won't appreciate it. A place like this runs off being discreet. So whatever you see or hear or think is going on, just keep it to yourself. Definitely don't discuss any of this with people outside, you hear me?"

I nodded. _A place like this_…

"Four – don't go upstairs." His voice became harder with this rule. "I mean it. Don't go up there."

"What can't I go up there?"

"No questions, remember." He shook his head and his jaw twitched. "It doesn't matter what's up there. We have six rooms that customers can book out for private parties. You don't need to worry about them… There is a chart preloaded on the tablet next to the register, with details about which rooms are being used. If you get a customer asking for a room, check the chart and if there's a room available, take their name and give them the key from the ones hanging up next to the spirits. You don't show them to the room. You just hand over the key and that's it."

"I think I can do that." I gulped.

"Five – you have any problems, you come to me. I'm your boss. Don't go crying to Ms Lincoln. With any luck she'll hardly be here and when she is, she should be hauled up in her office or in one of the rooms upstairs. You won't see much of her. Consider yourself lucky." He snorted. He added a final piece of tape to my bandage and retracted his hands. I flexed my fingers into a fist and checked the pain. It doesn't hurt too much.

"I kinda wanted to thank her for changing her mind." I muttered. Cal shook his head, scowling at me.

"It wasn't her decision. And before you get any ideas, it wasn't mine either." He looked over me and gave no care for my feelings. I can tell he thinks I'm a lost cause where this job is concerned. "Look, Steele, a girl like you doesn't belong in a place like this. If I had my way, you'd be out of here, working in some snooty office somewhere. But I can see you're desperate for the money so I'm willing to help you out. Stick to the rules and you should be fine."

"I'll try." I promised him.

"Tonight will be an easy shift. It's the pre-opening, only a select few are coming along." Cal began packing away the first aid box. "Tomorrow is our official opening. You're going to work tonight's shift and then, if I think you can handle it, you'll start again next Thursday. I won't make you work tomorrow or over the weekend… We only open Thursday night through Monday morning - eleven 'til 4am."

"What about the, um, money?" I mumbled. I glanced down at my fingers and blew out a shallow breath. "It's just…"

"You're poor, I get it." He filled in the blanks. I nodded. "I know what it's like to be straight out of college and have barely a dollar to your name. But don't worry about the money. Lincoln pays good. Well, it has to be for what they're asking us to do." He droned to himself. "What you earn tonight will cover you for the next week easy, don't worry."

Cal stood up and dragged the box across the table, sliding it into his hold as he moved over to the cabinets above the long granite coated counter. He's wearing a fitted black shirt, tucked into charcoal slacks. His ebony hair is spiked into a Mohican and from just above his collar, I can see a tattoo scorning his skin at the back of his neck.

"Lincoln's partner will come by tonight and hand over our pay checks. Apparently there's been an issue with her accounts. I dunno, I wasn't really listening." He told me. His honesty was something I appreciated.

"She's married then?" I hesitated over my question. Cal shook his head.

"Divorced… her ex is definitely a lucky bastard for escaping her claws." He snorted a laugh. "No, I mean her business partner. She owns forty per cent of the place, her partner owns the rest. He's a silent partner, so you won't see him around much. In fact, you'll be lucky to see him at all after tonight. He's only coming here because Lincoln's fucked off to Chicago for the weekend."

It's obvious he doesn't like Ms Lincoln. But I gather it's more than just a clash of personalities. From the way he squirms at the mere thought of her…

"Cal, can I ask you something?" I paused. He didn't shake his head so I took that as a yes. "If you don't like Ms Lincoln, why work for her?"

"It's a job and it pays good money, better than most places. And I don't have to like her to work for her. I'm here to make money, not friends. I suggest you adopt the same mentality, Steele."

He turned on his heels and trudged to the door.

"It's Ana. My name's Ana." I told him, rising off my seat a little to carry my voice forward. He didn't look back to me.

"Whatever, Steele."

The door bounced backwards behind him, leaving me alone again. I looked all around me, feeling so small and naïve in this place. I looked above me, to the clock on the wall.

"Show time," I whispered as it chimed ten o'clock.

* * *

At a little after four thirty Cal slammed the doors shut and closed the bar for the night. He showed the last of our customers to their limousines and personal driver's, and locked us inside. I survived my first shift.

I hovered around the bar, collecting the remaining glasses from the tables. The other bartenders are in the back, sorting through crates of beers and boxes of mixers. I haven't spoken to any of them. I tried talking to a slender redhead but she ignored me before heading upstairs.

"You look like shit, Steele." Cal beckoned my attention, coming to stand in front of me. He dropped a glass into my plastic carrier. I've spent most of the evening collecting glasses. "You never worked a night shift in your life, have you?"

I shook my head. "Did I do okay, considering?"

"There's a lot for you to work on," he said. "You didn't break any more glasses and you only fucked up three drink orders, so I guess that's something to be proud of."

I could feel his sarcasm like it was a slap across the face. I clenched my teeth together. _Ana rule number one: learn to ignore Cal's snarky comments. _

A loud thudding rocked the door, sending the noise through the bar. I jerked my head to the door and then to Cal. He remained passive, shrugging his shoulders.

"That'll be the boss man. Go let him in. I need grab the spare set of keys Lincoln left for him." He called to me as he charged towards the office on my right.

I dragged my feet across the floor. My shoes were comfortable earlier but now, after being on my feet all night, they are causing irreparable damage. I reached the door and unlocked the clasps at the top and bottom before turning the key. I paused, smoothed my hair back, and cranked the door wide open. I stepped aside, keeping my head forward.

It was several seconds before a tall, exquisitely dressed man stalked into the building. I felt the room swell as he entered.

My eyes ran the length of him. He's wearing a dark grey suit, sculpted perfectly to his frame, one hand fisted into his right pant pocket. I looked slowly up from his waist to his torso. Under his jacket I can see a buttoned vest, white shirt and a thin black tie.

"Is Caleb here?" he snapped me from my examination of him. His voice is cool and tense. He turned to face me. His features are dominant and masculine. His steely eyes stole my gaze until I couldn't stomach the intensity lingering in them. I glanced around him.

"Um, y-yes. He's getting keys… the keys… your keys." I stumbled over my tongue. I jerked my head down and back towards the office. "He'll be with you in a minute."

He sucked in a sharp breath and brought his hand to his face, scratching at his jaw for a moment. His hair shone under the dimmed lights, reflecting copper tones in his otherwise brunette mix. He must have felt me staring at him. He snapped his head towards me and stilted me in my intrusion. His eyes roamed my face and the base of my neck. My heart quickened.

"Can I get a drink?" he asked, nodding to the bar.

"Yes, of course, sir." I picked up my heavy legs and raced to the bar. I think I saw the corner of his mouth rise into a smirk. I circled the bar and took my place opposite him. "What can I get you?"

_Please don't be something difficult_…

"Single scotch. Neat." He ordered, leaning onto his elbow, propping himself sideways against the bar. I grabbed a glass from the pile under the counter and turned towards the shelf of spirits. I searched for the whiskey bottle and shoved the glass against the faucet, waiting as a single measure dripped out. I turned back towards him, placing the glass in front of him. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a series of grey envelopes. He flicked through them and paused. "Actually, put some ice in the glass."

I took the glass back and traced the bar around to the side, where the ice machine is. I pressed for three cubes and watched as they dropped into the glass, clinking and splashing against the caramel liquid. I heard him fiddling with one of the envelopes. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him putting something inside it before sealing it again. I caught a glimpse of his wallet before he shoved it into his jacket.

"Thank you." He nodded as I slid the glass back his way. He sipped at it, watching me at all times. I hovered near the register, rocking on the spot. He lowered his glass and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, collecting some of the moisture from his drink. "It's Anastasia, isn't it?"

"I prefer Ana," I nodded.

He nodded and smiled in return. He looked down at the pile of envelopes. He picked up the first one in the pile and handed it to me. My name is written on it in thick black lines, handwritten.

"Your wages for this evening," he told me. "It's cash. Unfortunately Ms Lincoln had some issues setting up the account so we could transfer money directly into your bank." He explained with such proficiency. I felt like I could lose myself in his words. "It should be dealt with by next week. I hope it won't be too much of an inconvenience having cash?"

"No, no cash is fine, thank you." I smiled, accepting the envelope.

"You're welcome, Anastasia." He definitely smirked this time. "You'll get paid every week."

"Thank you, Mr…" I waited for him to give me his name.

"Grey. Christian Grey." He drawled his name. _Christian Grey_. I've heard his name before…

"Thank you, Mr Grey." I nodded.

"You can call me Christian." He corrected me. I gulped. He placed too much emphasis on 'you'. "How did you find your first shift, Anastasia? Did it run smoothly?" he pursued me. He began circling his middle finger around the lip of his glass.

"It was good." I nodded. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the rhythmic motion of his finger.

"Good."

I looked to the office door as Cal came back into the bar. He straightened his shoulders at the sight of Christian.

"Mr Grey," Cal nodded. He swaggered towards Christian and forced his hand out. Christian accepted it, shaking and squeezing his hand hard. "Good to see you again, sir."

"I believe those are mine?" Christian gestured to the keys in Cal's hand. Cal nodded and handed them over. "I have all your wages here. I'll leave you to distribute them. I've already personally given Anastasia hers." He looked towards me and gave me a dazzling smile. I could feel my cheeks reddening.

Cal tensed up a little.

"Sir, can we have a moment alone in the office?" he pointed over his shoulder. "There are some things we need to discuss."

Christian huffed, displeased. He reluctantly nodded and lifted himself upright, adjusting his suit jacket. He knocked back the rest of his drink and offered the glass to me. I hesitated before taking it from him.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Anastasia."

Cal shook his head and moved back towards the office, refusing to wait for Christian.

"I'll look forward to seeing you again. When are you next working?" he asked me.

"Thursday." I stuttered.

"Thursday," he nodded. "I'll see you then."

"You will?" I swallowed. "Right… sorry, I just… I was told you wouldn't come here often. Not that you shouldn't come here, it's your club… sorry, I'm rambling… Cal said you were a silent partner. He said you were only coming here because Ms Lincoln is away."

He laughed at me. I flushed fire truck red. _Why did I say that? Learn to keep your mouth shut, Ana! _

He leaned closer to the bar and lowered his voice.

"That was the plan, but it appears I now have a reason to come here more often." He smirked again. "And it's not to admire the upholstery."

"It's…"

"Good night, Anastasia." He turned and walked away from me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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* * *

Ever since I was a kid, I've been an early bird. It's like there is something inside me that begrudges sleeping in past eight-thirty. I can't remember that last time I overslept. But I know it'll be different now.

When I got home from my first shift at Maîtrise, I crashed. I crashed hard.

Kate was patiently waiting for me outside the club at quarter to five, bright eyed and bushy tailed even though she must have only got a few hours' sleep before coming to pick me up. She greeted me with a smile and a bottle of ice cold water, pre-empting that I'd need it after a long and sweaty night. She wanted to know everything, especially how I managed to hurt my hand. She laughed when I told her, knowing how accident prone I am. We got back to the apartment just after five and I crawled straight to my bedroom, threw back the comforter, and climbed into bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, my energy levels falling through the floor. I slept through until my body had had its fill, sufficiently recovered.

Rolling onto my back, I patted down the comforter in search of my cell phone. I grumbled until I found it underneath my pillow. I pulled it up above my face and brought the screen to life. The light burned my eyes, forcing me to hold it away from me for several minutes. Once the blurriness had dissipated, I glanced at the time. 4:49p.m.

"You up yet?" Kate knocked on my bedroom door, pushing it open before I had chance to answer her. I dropped my phone and found her standing just inside my room, carrying a tray in front of her. I lifted myself up, to see what's on it. "I made you some tea and toast," she explained, stepping around the bed to sit down at the foot. "I heard you rolling around."

"Thanks," I said groggily, sitting up. Kate placed the try between us and began pouring me a cup from the pot. I tugged at my shirt, confused to see that I'm still wearing my uniform. I guess it's probably a good thing that I'm not working tonight; it would take forever to get all these creases out.

"How's your hand?" Kate asked, gesturing to my bandage as she passed over my cup. I flexed my fingers and winced. It didn't hurt yesterday. But now it feels tight and sore. "I found some dressing and antiseptic in the bathroom. I'll clean that up for you later." She smiled sweetly.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my roommate? Kate Kavanagh doesn't nurse people. And she certainly doesn't bring them breakfast in bed."

"Kate Kavanagh wanted to congratulate her best friend on surviving her first shift unscathed. Well, almost –" she looked my hand again and giggled. She grabbed a piece of toast from the tray, taking a huge bite.

I sat back against my headboard and picked at the toast, separating each bite with a sip of my tea. Kate filled me in on what she's been doing while I've been slept, telling me all about her trip into the heart of the city to get some groceries. She was interrupted by the house phone ringing from the kitchen. I made to get up but Kate shot me down, jumping up and darting out of the bedroom to answer it. I watched her through the doorway.

"Hello?" she answered, holding the phone to her ear as she propped herself against the countertop. "Yes, she does… She's okay… Okay, no problem. Will do. Thanks."

She put the phone down.

"Who was that?" I called out to her. She turned and came back towards my room, shrugging her shoulders.

"Someone from the club," she said, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed. She rested her hands on the footboard. "A guy. He was checking you got home okay last night. Wanted to know how you are today."

"Hm, it was probably Cal." I nodded. She shrugged again. She's wearing a long, cable knit sweater that's falling down on the left side, exposing her shoulder.

"He didn't leave a name. He said to tell you that payments to your account is sorted now?" Her sculpted brows lowered around her eyes, looking for an explanation.

"Oh I was paid cash last night. They couldn't set up the transfer in time."

She mouthed an 'O' and then nodded. "So how much did you pick up?"

"I haven't checked," I shook my head. I had shoved the envelope into my bag at the end of my shift, forgetting all about it until now. "Cal picked up $950 for the week, but he's the manager so mine will be a lot, lot lower."

I pushed the tray away and leaned over the side of my bed, grabbing my bag from the floor. I reached inside and rummaged for the small, grey envelope I was given. Kate hovered as I tore it open and pulled out the neatly stacked piles of cash inside it.

"Whoa…" I gasped, staring at the wad of crisp fifty dollar bills in my hand. "No way…"

The money has been divided into two parts, each held together by a white clip that has 'GEH' written on it.

I looked at the top pile first, flicking through the notes. I counted $200. I blinked and counted again, confused.

I stopped breathing as I checked the second pile. _Three_… _Four_… _Five_… Six hundred dollars.

"This can't be right," I shook my head and dropped the money onto the bed, too scared to touch it. Kate threw me a concerned look. "They've given me eight hundred dollars."

"Shit!" Her eyes widened and her mouth fell apart. "Eight hundred for one night?"

I nodded.

"I'm in the wrong job!" She snorted.

I stared at the money for a moment, hardly noticing the business card attached to the larger stack of notes. I slipped it out from under the 'GEH' clip and examined it.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

We invest in humanity.

Christian Grey. My boss. Or at least he's one of them.

Just seeing his name brings him back into my mind. That sharp face that could easily be covering magazines and billboard worldwide. Those intense, slate grey eyes that had me on tenterhooks from the second he first looked at me. His dark suit, tailored perfectly to fit every line of his body.

I shivered, picturing him standing there, staring at from the other side of the bar.

I flipped the business card over and saw that, on the back, there is a handwritten note. It was clearly written in haste, the ink smudged in places. The writing is still readable, though.

_Thank you for the drink. It was made with perfection._

_C._

I blew out a long breath. It took a second to understand what it meant. The money is a tip. A six hundred dollar tip.

"I wish I could earn eight hundred for one days' work." Kate's voice broke my thoughts. I blinked hard several times. She grinned at me. "Not bad for a crappy bar job, right?" she winked, reiterating the words I said to her when she dropped me off in front of the club last night.

"I guess not," I muttered.

"And before you even say it, no I am not accepting any money from you. We've already had this discussion. You don't owe me anything." She said firmly, knowing exactly what I was going to do. I was prepared to hand whatever money I got to her.

"But Kate, you've spent so much money on me these past few months," I admonished, shaking my head. "I want to pay you back."

"You don't have to. That's what friends do for each other." She offered me an award winning smile, her soft features swathed in her generosity. "Now you're earning the big bucks, you can start rebuilding that savings account you drained."

"Kate –"

"We can split the bills between us but whatever is left over is yours. I don't want a single penny of it."

Realising she won't back down I let the matter drop, smiling shyly in agreement. I feel bad for not returning the money she's given me. I will have to think of a different way to pay her back.

"Right, I'm in the mood for a night in front of the TV." She clapped her hands together. "How about I order us a pizza and we watch a movie?"

"Sounds great," I nodded. "But I'm paying for the pizza."

"Meh…" she winked and bounced out of my room, heading back across the length of the apartment to grab the phone.

I dithered for a short while, wondering what to do with the obscene amount of money I now have. I spent years building up my savings account, and still it never reached that high of a figure. I don't think I've ever had this much in one go.

The business card winked at me.

I can't accept this. I can't. It's too much.

I grabbed my phone and punched in the number on the front of the card. I hit 'dial' and forced the phone to my ear before I could chicken out of the call. His voice is so… _intimidating_.

The call rang out several times before it was picked up. A brass female voice answered.

"Grey Enterprises Holdings. Mr Grey's office."

She didn't ask if she could help me. I nodded at the abrupt, stand-offish greeting and swallowed past the dryness in my throat. I wonder if everyone connected to Christian Grey or Ms Lincoln is blunt and terse.

"Um, can I speak to Mr Grey, please?" I asked quietly, rubbing my fingertips over my lip.

"Mr Grey is unavailable." She dismissed my request immediately. "Do you have a message you wish to pass onto him?"

"Yes."

"What is your name?" Her voice is so cold and to-the-point, no quivering. If her voice were a touch deeper, I would think it was Ms Lincoln answering the call. She sighed at my hesitation.

"Ana. Ana Steele." I told her. "Well, Anastasia Steele. From Maîtrise." I corrected myself. He probably knows a million Ana's. He's probably already forgotten who I am.

The line went silent for the longest time. I pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected. It's not the best cell phone in the world but it still works and that's the main thing. Or at least, I hope it still works.

"Hello?" I asked into the silence.

"Mr Grey has just become available. Transferring you now." She snapped back and the line went dead, followed by a click, and then it was him. His voice oozed through the speaker, tickling my ear.

"Miss Steele," he purred. I tensed up at his relaxed tone. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I, um…" I stuttered. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the image of him building again in my mind. "I wanted to speak with you about my pay from last night… I work at Maîtrise."

"I know exactly who you are, Miss Steele." His said with such ease that it threw me off balance. I can detect a hint of laughter about him. "Is there a problem?"

"Y-Yes."

"There shouldn't be. I personally filled each envelope, so I know the amount is correct." He replied. "Were you expecting more? I don't believe we formally discussed salary with you."

"It's too much." I finally got the words out. Though, it was so quiet I'm not sure whether he heard me at first. He laughed down the phone.

"How do you determine that it is too much, Anastasia?"

_Anastasia. _

I hope to God he can't hear me squirming right now.

"Well?" he prompted. I can hear a slight tapping on his side, as if he's strumming his fingers on a desk.

"Eight hundred dollars for one night is far too much, Mr Grey." I mumbled, exhaling heavily. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to disguise it. "It's just too much."

He sighed back at me and paused. He had quietened when he returned to me. "Opening night salary is double the regular rate as we anticipate that it is one of our busiest nights. We also increase salary on state holidays." He explained clearly. "I can assure you that you received the appropriate amount. Two hundred dollars."

"And the additional six hundred?"

"That is a tip. And it was well deserved. I like to reward good service and you were excellent, Anastasia." He drawled with his melted chocolate voice. "I look forward to seeing you on Thursday. I shall be around from eleven o'clock."

"Thursday?"

"Your next shift." He reminded me and broke into a snigger. "Well, that is if we haven't already sent you running for the hills."

"No… not at all." I said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. Why would I be running for the hills? It wasn't that busy last night. "But really, Mr Grey, I can't accept this money."

"You can and you will. I won't discuss the matter further." He dropped the silkiness and adopted a forceful, dominant tone. "I have to go now, Anastasia. Thank you for your call. I was looking forward to hearing your voice again."

I shuddered. Something cold trickled down my spine.

"I'll see you Thursday."

"Okay."

"And Anastasia?"

"Yes?"

"Please wear your hair down in future. I would like to see you with it loose."

I instinctively pulled my free hand up to my hair, raking my fingers through what's left of my ponytail. I stared at the dark tendrils falling through the gaps between my fingers. I prefer having my hair down. I think I look better - more presentable - when it's down.

But the ponytail is part of the uniform.

"I'm required to have it tied up at all times." I tell him. I feel uneasy about correcting him. I don't want to offend him. "Cal said –"

"Ignore what he said." He commanded. "I'm telling you to wear it down. If anyone mentions it, you can tell them I authorised the uniform change. I don't want your hair tied up. Not yet."

I gulped.

"Good evening, Anastasia."

"Good evening, Christian."

The call ended before I could correct my mistake. I threw my phone onto my bed, narrowly missing the tray, and pushed my hands up to my face. He said to call him Christian last night, but today might be different.

"Oh God…" I sighed, falling back into my pillows.

* * *

"What I wouldn't give to be Sandra Bullock right now…" Kate blew out a long breath and pretending to fan herself down with her hand. "Damn, that boy is fine."

I rolled my eyes at both her and the television, just as Ryan Reynolds slammed butt-naked into his co-star. I didn't choose the film, but didn't argue with Kate over it either. After all she's done for me, I'm not about to start complaining now. I can handle two hours of romantic comedy slushiness.

We're sat on the long, chocolate coloured couch in our living room, each of us curled up in the corners with our comforters. Unable to get into the movie, I began answering the text messages I had received when I was asleep. Both Ray and my mother wanted to know how my first night at work was. I gave them generic replies, telling them everything went fine and that I'm looking forward to my next shift. I'm not sure I am, if I'm honest. Not now I know Christian will be there again.

My phone rattled again with another incoming message. I smiled as I read it.

_In Seattle tomorrow for an evening shoot. You free for Lunch? J_

José Rodriguez is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we were kids, living three streets apart for years. We became friends as a result of Ray and José's father working together in the military. We used to spend every summer racing through the street outside my house on our bikes, climbing the tree in my backyard, or simply lying on the grass, staring up at the clouds. We drifted apart when his family moved from Portland to Atlanta when we were eleven. I hadn't seen or spoken to him until a few years back, when, thanks to Facebook and some light stalking, I tracked him down. We were both already attending WSU but hadn't bumped into each other. I plucked up the courage to send him a friend request and everything clicked back into place.

He's still at WSU, due to graduate this year. Since the start of his degree, José has hated it. He wanted to switch to photography, where he passion lies, but didn't want to upset his father who said he needed a 'real degree'. José works freelance for weddings and private parties, but rarely makes the trip to Seattle so I'm excited with the thought of him coming here.

I fired back a quick reply.

_Absolutely. And Lunch is on me. I finally got a job! A_

_Hey, look at you! Congrats. Earning top dollar, right? J_

_As if I'd settled for less? Come by the apartment at 1. I'll make us something to eat. A_

_Make some cookies! You know how I love them. ;) See you tomorrow. J x_

I tried to ignore the kiss on the end. I crossed my fingers and prayed that this time we meet it won't be half as awkward.

I haven't seen José for months. It was not long after me and Kate had made the move to Seattle, and we were having a housewarming party to celebrate. José had come over in advance to help us set up and all evening he had been acting strange, hovering around me like a child. I brushed it off until he began drinking and his confidence went through the ceiling. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions, resulting in him somehow coercing me into my bedroom, pushing me up against the door and trying to kiss me. Which resulted in me kneeing him hard in the crotch. It sobered him up instantly. We met up a few weeks' later and he didn't mention it. He was quiet and left after an hour, and I hadn't heard from him since.

"Who are you messaging now?" Kate whined, flicking a napkin my way. "You're missing Ryan's good side!"

"José." I told her. She jerked her head to me and frowned. I had told her about the drunken incident the morning after the party. She had spent all evening sandwiched between two tall, dark-haired guys, disappearing into her bedroom with both of them. At the same time. I didn't see either of them again.

"What does he want?"

"He's coming over for lunch tomorrow." I explained. "And I'd really, really appreciate it if you were here, too. It'll be awkward with just the two of us. I know it will." I pouted my lower lip.

"No way," she shook her head and crossed her arms. "All that pent up sexual energy will cripple me. Everyone this side of the equator knows he is desperate to bone you."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "And he knows I'm not interested in him that way."

"Ana, you're not interested in anyone that way." She corrected me, tilting her head back against the cushion behind her. "Seriously, when was the last time you went on a date?"

"I don't know. It's not something I keep count of."

I lied. I remembered it perfectly. It was December 15th 2010. Kate had forced me into a double-date with her then boyfriend and his younger brother. It was awful. My date spent all night ignoring me, directing his conversation to Kate's ample cleavage.

"You've gotta get yourself out there. You can't stay a virgin forever." She whined. I rolled my eyes, having heard this all before. "You know what they say. If you don't use it, you'll lose it."

"Somehow I don't think my vagina is going to drop off." I quipped, stealing the last slice of pizza from the box. "Besides, who knows, I might meet someone. I work in a bar now. Maybe I'll be swept off my feet by a customer and be whisked off in a whirlwind romance?"

Kate arched her brow with scepticism.

"It's a long shot," I admitted.

"What's the cliental like?"

I can tell she's on the hunt for new prey. She hasn't been with a guy for three months – her longest spell since she broke up with her ex over a year ago. For quite a few months she took just about anything with a pulse to her bed. The noises were unbearable. I forced her to move her bed away from my wall, fed up with hearing her headboard banging into it all night long.

"Mostly older. Good mix of men and women. All of them look rich, though." I explained. "None of them were particularly chatty, especially the men. They just ordered their drinks and went upstairs. I didn't see them again until they left."

"Rich, older men who don't talk much… sounds perfect to me." She winked and let out a small laugh. "What happens upstairs?"

"I don't know. I'm not allowed up there."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "They're private hire rooms. I think they do meetings up there or something. Everyone was dressed in suits. People in business, no doubt."

"Meetings in a nightclub? At night?" Kate raised her brows, not buying my guess.

"It's not that kind of club. It's not really a party kind of place. They played really weird classical music, but it was so quiet." I explained. "It's more sophisticated than the bars we go to."

"Weird… I suppose it could make sense, though. CEO's are all night owls, aren't they? To keep up with the Far East and stuff. Obsessed with money, the lot of them. Money hungry tight-asses, that's what I call them."

I wonder if Christian is a night owl. He's definitely not a tight-ass when it comes to money. He couldn't be to give me that much money for getting him a drink I'm not even sure I got right. He asked for whiskey but the club stocks a dozen of them, all supposedly different. They call looked the same though. I just picked the first one I came to.

"And speaking of hungry, I need ice-cream." Kate announced, pushing up from the couch with a sigh. "Want some?"

"Sure," I nodded.

My phone buzzed again my lap, distracting me. I picked it up and saw a new message. I expected it to be from José, complete with another unwanted kiss on the end, but it wasn't. It was from an unfamiliar number.

_Don't stress about the money. You earned it. And you will earn every tip I give you. You are more than worth it. Christian._

My heart leapt into my throat.

He texted me.

He has my number. And now I have his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Hard Limits** – I don't normally like to give out spoilers, but I can assure you that Christian will not be engaging with any woman other than Ana in this story. I hope this settles your mind! As for Cal, we will learn more about him as we go along. :) Thank you. Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying it so far and are looking forward to more! Hope you like this chapter :) Much Love x

**Angelica** – Glad you're enjoying it! Thank you! Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**LA** – I'm intrigued too! I would've explored it by now if I was Ana. I'm a bit rebellious like that. Cal would certainly have his hands full if I worked for him! :) Thank you! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Hm, maybe Ana will work it out soon? Who knows… Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Bree** – Love triangles? Maybe… Anything could happen, after all. :P Thank you! Much Love x

**Lis** – Something tells me Ana won't be too shy with her feelings… Thank you! Hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Excaliber** – Glad you're looking forward to more chapters. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

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**Hello my lovelies!**

**Apologies for the rather long delay - it's been a busy old time of late! **

**I hope you are all having a wonderful week and have an amazing New Year's celebration lined up! I wish you all lots of love and happiness for 2015!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer to make up for the lack of an update! **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

**(P.S. I uploaded a one-shot type of Christmas/New Year story of our favourite family, would love you to read it! It will be a two part story - the second part will be uploaded soon! x)**

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After straightening my blouse for the hundredth time, I smoothed my fingers through my hair, desperate to keep my hands busy and my mind away from the uncomfortable thought of spending the next hour or so alone with José. Kate agreed to be here and she was going to be until about twenty minutes ago, when she was called out to investigate a possible story down at Pike Place Market. I envied her, wishing I had an excuse to cancel. I hoped José would call and say he couldn't make it, but he sent a text just now to say he was on his way. I was looking forward to him coming over but now, after overthinking the situation, I feel nervous and unsure.

_What if he tries to kiss me again?_

"There's no backing out now," I sang quietly to myself as the buzzer rang three times. I moved slowly over to the intercom. "Hello?"

"Saludos, mi buen amigo!" José called through the speaker, his voice as cheery and upbeat as ever. It immediately put me on edge. "Let me in, it's freezing out here!"

"Come on up. The door's open." I buzzed him into the building and unlocked the door, stepping away from it and heading back to the kitchen counter where I have laid out everything for our lunch. I fiddled helplessly with the pile of napkins I have already folded.

I heard José jogging up the steps to the apartment. He was humming a tune to himself as he came through the door boldly, causing it to swing back on its hinges. I lifted my head to find a wide, all-teeth-showing grin on his lips.

"Hi," I said first, holding my hand up for a quick, awkward wave. He smiled at my greeting before he pulled his thick, woollen sweater over his head. The t-shirt underneath rode up as he removed the sweater, lifting and exposing his tight abdomen for a moment. I dropped my eyes to the counter. "Erm, I hope you're hungry," I stuttered, quiet laughter seeping into my voice. "I think there's enough food here to feed the five thousand!"

"I could eat a horse! I skipped breakfast especially." He flashed another grin and came towards me. "Oh come here –"

Before I could process what was happening, I was in his arms, pressed closely into his chest and suspended in the air. With the force of his embrace, he lifted me from the floor and began spinning me on the spot.

"Whoa…" I gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders to regain some balance, but also to put some distance between us.

"Sorry," he laughed, placing me back on my feet. His hands lingered a little too long on my sides, holding onto me by my ribs. I looked up to his face, seeing something flicker in his big, chocolate brown eyes. "God, it's been too long. I was starting to forget what you looked like."

His laughter pattered out. He didn't move until I pulled away, uncomfortable with the intimacy of his touch. His hands slipped slowly from me, dropping back to his sides.

"Ana…" he sighed my name.

"I made cookies," I interrupted, pointing to the dish holding the dozen or so cookies I made this morning. "Fresh out of the oven, just how you like them."

He nodded his head and turned to pick up his bag from the floor. "I thought we could open this," he said, pulling out a bottle of red wine from inside. He held it up for inspection. "It's good stuff, apparently. What do you say? We crack this open over lunch?"

I shrugged and skirted around him, to grab some glasses from the top cabinet. I told him to take a seat at the couch, thinking we could eat there to keep things casual. I joined him a few seconds later, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of him. He popped the cork and poured equal, plentiful amounts into the glasses. We didn't raise a toast.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, forcing my attention to him, something I have avoided properly since he arrived. He ran his fingers over his chin and the swatch of hair covering it. "I decided to let it grow, to see what it looks like. Does it look okay?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," I shook my head, exhaling a laugh of sorts. "All that matters is if you like it."

José hummed a quiet noise and sat forward, bringing himself to the edge of the couch. I decided against sitting beside him, wanting to keep a gap between us at all times. After all, the last two times we have seen each other were awkward and estranged – the first from him trying to stick his tongue down my throat, and the second from him refusing to discuss what had happened and leaving abruptly, without telling me where he was going.

I pulled a cushion from a nearby chair and threw it on the floor before sitting down on it. I sat opposite him, the coffee table firmly between us.

We began piling our plates with the mix of vegetables and seasoned chicken I prepared. I chose to make fajitas – a quick and easy dish that isn't likely to bring about any romantic encounters. Or at least I'm praying it doesn't.

"Looks great," he said, quickly taking his first bite. He nodded and released a pleasure filled sound. "Hm, tastes amazing…"

"Glad you like it," I murmured back. I brought my glass to my lips, gulping it back in one go. It tasted disgusting but I ignored the acidity. José pretended not to notice my sour expression.

It's not as if José is unattractive, because he isn't. He has rich Latino blood that oozes from him in both looks and personality. He has deep, caramel skin, and dark hair that he always keeps short and utilitarian in style. He stands tall at almost 6ft, and is well toned, his arms evidence enough of endless hours spent in the gym. When we were younger, he was always much smaller than me, in both height and width. He's far from the slim, nerdy looking boy in some of his older Facebook pictures. He even swapped his wide-rimmed glasses for contact lenses.

Since he beefed up, women throw themselves at him. Some guys, too. They only see the superficial side of José, whereas I know, deep down, he's more than just a pretty face. He's a gentleman. He's kind and considerate. He's the guy you can call at 3am for no reason other than to complain and have someone listen to your woes.

I love him. Honestly, I do. But I'm not in love with him and I don't think I ever could be. I just can't force something that isn't there.

In between bites, we exchanged quiet conversation – talking about his plans after college, my new job, just normal stuff. I could tell that with every silent pause he was growing shy around me, his buoyancy from earlier disappearing.

I had been dreading one of us bringing up the 'incident'. But it had to be discussed sooner or later. It was the elephant in the room that neither of us could ignore for much longer.

"Is everything okay between us, Ana?" José started, keeping his voice muted and low. His eyes fixed on the remnants of his lunch, his fingers picking at a small piece of tortilla. "You know, because of what happened…"

I inhaled a deep breath and sat back from the coffee table. I kept my wine glass in my hands, stroking my thumb up and down the neck.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "You tell me… The last time I saw you, you just disappeared. One minute you were there and then you were gone. You just left."

"I know," he nodded. He dropped back into the couch, bringing his hands to his cheeks. He rubbed at them hard for several seconds. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that… It was just so weird between us. You could hardly stand to be near me. I couldn't take it. I just had to get out of there."

"And leave me in a crowded bar, waiting around to see if you were going to come back?"

He nodded again. He finally brought his eyes to me. They were soft and almond shaped, full of sadness. It broke my heart a little.

"I did something stupid," he mumbled, referring to our kiss, if you can call it that. "I totally misread the situation. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing." He shook his head. I didn't believe his last statement was true. I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. "I acted on an impulse. That's all it was. It didn't mean anything. It was a mistake."

"You sure about that?" I asked tentatively. He nodded, raising his brows slightly.

"I didn't feel anything," he smiled shyly before snorting a laugh. "Well, except for your knee hitting me straight in my misters!"

I laughed with him. We both lifted our glasses for a sip. I watched him over the brim of my glass. He raked his shoulders back.

"Look, Ana, I don't want this to ruin what we have between us." He whispered in a gruff tone. "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want that either, but –" I stopped myself. I looked away from him and shook my head. "José, I just don't see you that way. I'm sorry but –"

"I know."

"José…"

"Can we just forget it? Move past it, pretend like it never happened?" he asked, almost begging me.

I nodded, hoping that we can forget all of this.

He smiled and stood up from the couch. He wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans and came towards me, stopping at my side. I twisted to look up at him.

"Hug it out or is that taking it too far?" he questioned, his brows low around his eyes. I hesitated before accepting his offer to help me from the floor.

He pulled me to my feet and then opened his arms for me to step into. I placed my cheek to his chest.

I used to feel safe in his arms. I still do, to an extent, but it's different now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "You're a lovely guy but…"

"You don't have to say it," his chest hummed. "I get it."

He dropped his head down, to rest it against mine. He rocked me gently on the spot, tightening his hold on me. He turned his head inwards, bringing his nose to my hair. He took slow and deep breaths, each one unsettling me more than the last.

* * *

After lunch I decided to head to Pike Place to meet with Kate, leaving the mess for when I came back. I had to get out of the apartment for a while. The fresh air and lengthy chat with Kate helped to clear my mind somewhat. As well as the hundred or so people choosing to spend their Saturday afternoon's rushing around the market.

I waited around for her to finish up her leads and when she was done, we grabbed some drinks, resolving to take off for a much needed shopping trip. Thanks to my healthy paycheck from my day's work at Maîtrise, I was able to stock up on some new clothes to see me through the rest of winter, some of my favourite toiletries, as well as a surprise gift for Kate, to say thank you for all the help she's given me over the past few months. It wasn't anything too expensive, because I know she would have complained if I had spent all my money on her. It was just a small bottle of her favourite Gucci perfume.

We got back to the apartment before dusk with Kate offering to clear up the mess from mine and José's disaster of a lunch. She suggested that I lock myself in the bathroom and indulge in a long soak in the tub. I've never been good at the whole 'pampering yourself' thing, but I can enjoy a bubble bath like the next person.

I drew myself a Lavender scented bath, dropping the oil under the running water. I lit one of Kate's candles and leaned back into the tub, letting the bubbles encapsulate me. I scrubbed at my chest and arms with the strange, coarse mitt I purchased upon Kate's recommendation. It left me feeling smooth and silky, wiping away all of my rough skin, but unfortunately I couldn't rid José from my mind as easily.

My niggling thoughts were eventually dispelled by my cell phone vibrating on the counter. I forgot to take it out of my jeans pocket earlier so left it on the counter, out of the way of damage. I quickly wiped my hand on the towel hanging on the rail near the end of the tub and reached across for my phone. The counter is directly behind, meaning I can grab most things on there without leaving the serenity of the water.

I was careful, holding my phone firmly in my hand, not wanting to drop it. I opened up the new text message waiting for me.

_I'm looking forward to seeing you on Thursday. C_

My eyes and mouth widened as I read it. I saved his number in my phone last night, after he messaged me. Something about the way he contacted me so unexpectedly suggested that it wouldn't be the last message I would receive from him. And for once I was right.

I studied those words, remembering how he said them to me when I called him about the money. I can hear his voice swirling through my mind. It didn't fill me with the same apprehension it did before. I feel something different now…

My phone buzzed again.

_(P.S. I hope you're not worrying about the money. Please, just spend it. Treat yourself.)_

I hesitated with my reply, drafting it several times before I bit the bullet and pressed send.

_I'm looking forward to Thursday, too. The club will be open from 11pm. (P.S. You will be pleased to know I have already spent some of the money. And I have treated myself. Thank you again. It was very generous of you!)_

He replied instantly.

_I have my own set of keys – I can come and go whenever I choose. And I am pleased to hear that. I'm glad you have put the money to good use. Hopefully I will hear about your purchases soon? C_

My thumb hovered over the send button for several minutes. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, feeling a flutter in the pit of my stomach.

_I'm sure you will. You might even get to see some of them. A_

I let out a small squeak of a noise as I watched the message disappear from my screen, moving into the sent folder. I've never felt this way before and, frankly, I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the heat of the bath or the three glasses of wine I had at lunch… or maybe it was just the idea that wherever he is, he was thinking about me before he sent his text.

_He was thinking about me_… My skin prickled at the very thought.

I waited and waited for his reply, growing anxious when it didn't come. I checked my phone several times, to make sure it had actually sent.

I sat up in the tub, staring at my empty inbox.

What if he misunderstands it? I was referring to my clothes, but what if he thinks I'm –

My phone vibrated in my hand. I opened the message with hesitancy.

_I hope I do. Looking forward to Thursday even more now. It can't come quick enough. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, Anastasia. C_

I slumped backwards into the water, sending it splashing over the sides and crashing to the tiled floor. My feet wriggled giddily under the water. I bit hard on my lower lip to stop myself from laughing like a lunatic.

* * *

The weekend past in a blur and was followed with an even quicker week.

Thursday night crept up on me before I had chance to blink. I was grateful the week past as quickly as it had, even more grateful for the fact that I could drive myself to work this time. My old, battered VW Beetle has certainly seen better days, but Wanda still has life in her yet. I pulled into the parking lot at the rear of the club, to a space that already had my name printed on a sign – Miss A Steele. I tried not to overthink the fact my spot is sandwiched between Ms E Lincoln and Mr C Grey.

I purposefully arrived an hour earlier than my shift, hoping the extra time would help settle me back into the swing of things. I had to walk around the front of the building, learning that there is a key code needed for the back entrance. I made a mental note to ask Cal for that later in the evening. The doorman ushered me in without a second glance.

"Hi," I greeted Cal, finding him sitting on a stool at the bar. I walked over, stopping in front of him. He didn't look up. He's hunched forward, peering over a stack of paperwork. Realising Cal isn't the type of guy to exchange small talk, I cut straight to the point. "Where would you like me first?"

"Unpacking some of the boxes on the other side of the bar," he pointed to the left, towards the far side of the bar. I lifted onto my toes and nodded, seeing four or five large cardboard boxes piled up. "Spirits, juices and mixers for the weekend. Juices need to go in the refrigerator. You know where the rest goes."

"I do," I nodded and began walking towards the staff room at the back of the club. I propped the door open, coming to a stop at the sight of a dozen more boxes waiting in there. "Do the boxes out here need unpacking as well?"

"No, the fucking elves will sort it out," Cal grunted. "Of course they need unpacking. I'll give you a hand once I've sorted through this. Just do what you can."

I sighed. I removed my coat and bag, leaving them in the staff room, before coming back out to the bar. I decided to tackle the boxes out there first.

I rounded the bar, walking in front of Cal. For the first time since I arrived, I felt him watching me.

"Steele?" he sounded my name slowly, with a curious tone. I turned to face him. One of his brows arched perfectly. He shook his head. "Why is your hair down?"

I instantly pulled my hands to my hair. It's wavy and hanging around my shoulders. Cal's jaw tightened.

"Um, I was told to wear it down." I told him. He scowled back at me.

"And who ordered that?"

"Mr Grey."

Something dark washed over Cal's expression, causing his whole demeanour to shift. His chest rose once with a deep, long breath. He tapped the end of his pen on the bar top as his lips pursed together. He nodded once, dropping his eyes back to his paperwork.

"I can put it up if it's a problem. I don't mind." I said quickly. I lifted my right wrist, bringing attention to the hair tie I always keep there.

"No, there's no problem. Not if that's what Mr Grey ordered." He shook his head. He rolled his shoulders backwards and tilted his chin further down, investing his gaze solely on his work. "Amie and Jo called in sick, so we're understaffed for tonight. We'll all need to up our game."

"Okay," I nodded.

I left Cal to his paperwork and made a start on the first of the boxes. I took the small knife from under the bar and used it to slice through the tape. I managed to empty two of the boxes when the front door swung open. The air changed as soon as Ms Lincoln arrived. It felt colder somehow. I shivered as she walked past me without so much as glancing in my direction. She ignored Cal and I, disappearing into her office and slamming the door shut. Her long black coat barely made it through the gap before the door closed.

Knowing she was here for the night told me I had to work twice as hard and keep my concentration levels high, to save everyone from my clumsiness and mistakes. But my concentration was screwed the minute Christian entered the club.

He came in through the back entrance, from the parking lot. I looked over my shoulder when I heard the door open. He was wearing a light grey suit with a white shirt and a thin black tie. He walked slowly across the length of the club, fixing his jacket buttons together as he moved.

"Good evening," he greeted Cal with a single nod of the head, passing him in one easy motion, his stride unfaltering.

He worked his way to me, his eyes driving a hole into the side of my head. I stole a few seconds to myself before plucking the courage to look him in the eye. Since he last messaged me, I'm ashamed that he has filled my thoughts and my dreams. Well, it's just one dream. Reoccurring. Every night.

_He's sat at the bar when I arrive. There's two glasses in front of him. We're the only people here, the rest of the club empty. I reach him and he smiles, asking me to sit with him. I go to pull out one of the stools but he shakes his head. He asks me to sit on top of the bar. He picks me up and sits me in front of him. He pushes our glasses aside and then his hands move to my_ –

"Good evening, Anastasia." Christian smiles to me, breaking my thoughts in half. I stumbled slightly.

"Good evening," I nodded back, gulping past the hard lump in my throat. His eyes moved to my neck and I wondered if he can see a lump there. His hard gaze lingered on my jugular.

After a few seconds, he smirked.

"It suits you," he pointed to my hair, looking at it for a moment. "Is it naturally wavy?"

I nodded.

He smiled again. It made my knees quiver.

I shook my head. _Shit, what is wrong with me?_

"I won't keep you. You're clearly busy." He tapped the bar top and held my attention for a minute before he turned and walked away. He moved with such ease over to Ms Lincoln's office, his hips and shoulders rolling in sync with each other. It's mesmerising.

He didn't knock before he entered her office. He did, however, pause long enough to call out to Cal.

"Mr Hunter, are you joining us?" Christian asked. I glanced to Cal.

"Yes, I am." Cal nodded, his voice sharp with Christian. "We have a lot to discuss."

Cal jumped from his stool and strode to the office, pushing through it, almost knocking Christian out of the way. Christian didn't react to it, though. His face remained still as he entered behind Cal and pulled the door to a close. It didn't quite catch the frame though, leaving a small gap.

Being the only person in the club and door open ajar, I could hear the three of them talking. I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but I sensed from the tone of their voices that they weren't having a friendly conversation about the weather. Both males sounded angry, their voices much louder than Ms Lincoln's.

I shouldn't have eavesdropped, I know I shouldn't have. It's rude and you never hear anything good about yourself. But I couldn't resist the urge. I had to know what they were so angry about. I did, however, have the foresight to remove my shoes before leaving my position at the bar – my heels would give away my presence. I tiptoed slowly to the door, creeping closer to it with my back to the wall. I stopped a few inches from the gap and lent my ear towards it...

"I thought you would have given up on her by now." Ms Lincoln droned in a steady, monotone voice. She sounded bored of whatever they were talking about.

"I give up on lost causes, not people with eagerness to learn and succeed." Cal informed her. His voice appeared much closer to me than Ms Lincoln's. I imagined him standing up, near the door. "She's doing okay. I'm keeping an eye on her."

"Have you talked her through everything?" Ms Lincoln asked. There was a silent pause followed by her cackled laughter. "Oh this is going to be interesting, isn't it?"

"I'm keeping an eye on her," Cal repeated himself. "She will be fine. I'll make sure of it. So I'd appreciate it if you'd back the fuck off."

"Excuse me?" Christian's voice appeared coarse and loud. My lungs tightened. I pushed my hand to my mouth, to stop any noise escaping. "Watch your tone." He said the words with a shade to his voice I haven't heard before.

"You need to leave her alone." Cal continued. "I know what you're up to. I won't let you fuck her over."

"You know nothing," Christian dropped his voice to a clenched whisper. I heard a series of leisurely footsteps. "What makes you think I would ever listen to a word you have to say anyway? Who do you think you are?"

"I suggest you back up out of my face," Cal grunted. "You need to leave her alone." He repeated.

"You're protective of her. Why?" Christian's voice became unbalanced for a moment. "Do you like the look of her, is that why you're telling me to back off? Because you want her to yourself?"

"She doesn't know." Cal said calmly. I could almost detect a smile in his tone. "She knows nothing."

"What?"

"You heard me," Cal mumbled. "She's oblivious to all of this. She doesn't have a fucking clue."

I heard a rush of air leave someone's chest.

"Elena?" Christian growled. My knees buckled for a different reason this time. I held onto the wall to keep myself upright. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

She lets out another wicked laugh.

"You need to explain yourself. Now." Christian ordered her. I heard a sharp bang, like a hand striking something wooden.

"Oh come on, Christian. You've seen her. She's a mouse." Ms Lincoln's voice moved closer towards the door, to where I think Christian is hovering. "Did you really think she was like us?"

There was a long, silent pause.

"It's not the end of the world. Don't be so melodramatic," she wavered, stepping away again, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. "You wanted her. You begged me to hire her, so I did. You brought this on yourself. You didn't ask the right questions."

"Don't you dare pin this on me, Elena," Christian snapped at her. "How the fuck could you do this? Shit."

Another, much louder bang startled me. Something was thrown inside the office.

I tore myself away from the door and staggered back to the bar. I heard nothing for several minutes. The blood in my ears was rushing too much to hear anything but my own pulse. I shoved my feet back into my heels and leaned forward against the bar for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

I didn't notice Cal as he returned to his stool at the other end of the bar. I hardly noticed Christian as he came through behind him. I only looked up from my feet when I felt intense, grey eyes watching me from across the room.

His complexion seemed paler than when he arrived. His jaw clenched several times, his skin tight over sharp edges. He watched me for a long while before he pulled his cell phone from his jacket. He shook his head hard and dropped his gaze.

His eyes were cold, sterner and darker than before. He remained grounded to the spot until Ms Lincoln approached him.

"Christian, let's discuss this in private," she kept her voice down. She reached out for his arm.

"You have really fucked up this time," he grunted to her, snatching his arm back. He rushed towards the front door and exited the building in a whirlwind, leaving both me and Ms Lincoln staring after him.

Ms Lincoln revolved slowly on the spot, turning to face me head on. She stared at me with her serpentine features, raking her eyes all over me.

"Haven't you got work to do?" she snapped, jump starting me into action. I reached into the open box beside me and grabbed another carton of juice. "And for god's sake, put your hair up. You look a state."

She slammed her office door shut, pulling on it so hard I half expected it to come clean off its hinges. The sound and vibrations made me flinch. The carton of juice slipped straight out of my hands, crashing to the floor. The dark red contents exploded with contact, spilling out around my feet. I mumbled a quick apology to Cal but he wasn't listening. I don't think he even noticed I dropped the carton.

I pulled on the tie around my wrist and wrapped it twice around my hair as I drew it into a ponytail.

* * *

Cal sent me home early. He saw I was distracted by the strange thoughts and notions wandering through my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about what I heard or the way Christian looked before he left.

I exited through the back door, having got the code from Cal. It was just before 3am. There was hardly anyone in the club anyway, so it was pointless me hanging on any longer.

As I stepped out into the cold January air, I tugged my new winter coat together. It's a deep forest green, made from thick wool. It's fitted, with a belt around the middle, and sits mid-thigh. Kate helped me choose it. She said the darkness and richness of the colour complimented my skin tone. I like the way it fans out around my hips, adding some definition to my figure – or lack of one.

I stumbled quickly to my car, needing to escape the bitter chill swarming me. There's hardly any lighting in the lot, compromising my vision, but I managed to make it to my car unscathed. Although, my beloved Wanda looked very out of place sitting between a sleek sports car and a large SUV type vehicle.

I unlocked my car and threw my bag inside. I decided to keep my coat on. I normally don't like to drive with any sort of jacket on – I don't like to be restricted in any way – but with it being a particularly cold night, I thought better of it. I was about to lower myself down when I froze to the spot.

I heard a click behind me, followed by two footsteps.

I blew out a long breath.

I turned slowly. Ray taught me basic self-defence moves when I was a teenager, but never did I think I would need to use them. I readied myself in case I needed to strike.

"Christian?" I exhaled harshly, seeing him standing a few feet from me, sealing the gap between my car and the SUV.

He didn't react to my voice.

"H-Hi… I thought you left?" I looked him up and down. He's wearing just his shirt now, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"I did," he nodded once.

"I overheard you earlier," I blurted. I spoke before my mind had chance to process the words. "In the office. I know you were talking about me."

He didn't confirm or deny it.

"I don't understand what's going on," I dropped my voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Anastasia…" he said my name in a pained sighed. I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head. He rocked forward on his toes, leaning closer to me. His fingers flexed at his sides. "You haven't done anything wrong. I have."

"I don't –"

His jaw clenched again. "I have overstepped the mark and complicated the boundaries between us. I shouldn't have messaged you the way I did."

"I didn't mind," I shook my head. "Actually, I liked –"

"I can assure you it won't happen again," he continued, ignoring my words. "I have removed your number from my possession, along with all your personal details. I won't contact you again."

"But –"

"Goodbye, Miss Steele." He uttered quietly, turning back towards the car behind him.

He opened the rear passenger's door. He hesitated before he climbed inside, twisting his head back towards me for a final glance. His expression held a small smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"That's a very nice coat, Miss Steele. The colour looks good on you." He mumbled and then slipped into the car, closing the door immediately.

The SUV reversed out of the space and quickly swung around, speeding off through the lot. I didn't catch a glimpse of the driver, but I recognised the car. It's the same one that followed me home the day of my interview.

Two questions circled my mind during my drive home.

1\. What is going on in Maîtrise that I am so oblivious to?

2\. Will I ever see Christian again?

I decided that I would get an answer for the first. I don't know when I will get it, but I will.

But I feared I already knew the answer to the latter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Kathy** – Thank you! I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one, too. Much Love x

**Daphne** – Don't worry! That's all I can say for now, because I don't want to ruin the story for other people, but you have nothing to worry about. I promise! :) Much Love x

**Heidi** – Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Ellie** – Ellie! Happy New Year to you, too! I think it's been confirmed too, but we just need now for Ana to realise what's going on. :) Hope you like this chapter. Thank you! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Oh yes, I suspect all of this will truly turn Ana's world upside down. If it hasn't already! Thank you. Hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Tia** – Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Everyone!**

**Hope you're all well and life is treating you kindly.**

**As always so humbled to see so many of you reading and enjoying the story. It really does spur me on – especially through a recent case of writer's block. I'm optimistic that the next update won't take as long as this one has. But please know that if there are long delays between chapters that I haven't abandoned writing!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

_Here we go again_…

I push open the heavy metal door, forcing enough room to squeeze through and enter the building, to start yet another gruelling shift. I'm running late and can hear the club alive with its signature classical music. I just hope Cal doesn't shout at me…

I stop by the staff room first, leaving my things in their usual space, before heading through to the bar. I remove the hair tie sitting on my wrist and snap it around my ponytail. The bar is dark, the lights down low. It makes everything a crimson hue, courtesy of the blood red walls.

"Anastasia…"

I freeze with my back to the voice calling my name. I slam my eyes shut and reach out, needing something to hold on to. My chest makes a laboured noise. He says my name again. I shiver, feeling something icy trickle down my spine.

"I ordered for you. I hope that's okay?" he purrs.

Gulping hard, I turn to face him, opening my eyes slowly.

Christian Grey.

He stands just a few feet from me, leaning into the bar with his hand flat on the top, his fingers drumming slowly on the wood. He's wearing navy slacks and a white shirt open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Come join me." He smirks, the right side of his mouth lifting. I want to kiss that mouth.

I stumble towards him, almost falling into the stool he's preparing for me. My eyes are on him constantly, and my body doesn't feel like my own. He's controlling me. Like a puppet. And it's a feeling I crave in this moment. I want to be his.

He holds the stool steady for me, and he allows me to grip his forearm as I climb up onto the seat. He sits on the stool beside me, swivelling on it to face me head on. I mimic his movements.

"A toast," he picks up the two long stemmed champagne flutes from in front of us, offering one to me.

The liquid inside is golden and fizzing, a strawberry in the bottom of the glass.

"To the most beautiful woman in the room." He smiles. His brows arch slightly as he chinks his glass to mine and raises it to his lips.

I look around us and I see no one.

"Where is everyone?" I ask. He forces my glass to my lips, coercing my hand up to my face. I take a slow sip. The champagne slides easily down my throat, smooth to taste. He smiles and allows me to place the glass back onto the bar. I ask again where everyone is.

"It doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "All that matters is that you are here. With me."

His voice is like velvet, each word rolling safely into the next. He reaches out with his hand and touches my cheek, dragging the backs of his fingers across my flushed skin.

"Hm… so soft…"

I shift uncomfortably on my seat, pressing my thighs together. My breath is shaky.

"Are you soft all over, I wonder?" he thinks out loud. His eyes darken. His tongue pokes from his mouth, running along the curve of his lower lip.

His gaze drops to my mouth and roams the length of my throat, the opening of my shirt…

He pushes his glass onto the bar and then his hands fall to my knees. I gasp, feeling a jolt from his touch. He laughs again. He massages his palms into my thighs, slowly and expertly working up them, under the hem of my skirt.

"Lace panties… my favourite…" he bites down on his lip.

With one hand he grips my upper thigh, while the other reaches my apex. He skims his fingers up and down my front, running the length of my seam. My core tightens and I feel myself grow wetter.

"Oh Anastasia…"

_Anastasia…_

_Ana…_

_Ana…_

"Ana!"

"Huh? What?"

I shot up in bed, kicking and punching the comforter away from me. My eyes burned from the light coming in through the window.

"What?" I croaked again. Kate stood in my doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding something to her shoulder.

"Phone!" she mouthed, her voice irritated. "It's Ray."

"Oh…" I gulped. I pushed my hands up to my face and rubbed my eyes. I feel hot and sticky. "Erm… tell him I'll call him later."

"Okay…" Kate eyed me for a moment. She pursed her lips and pointed to the corner of her mouth. "Might want to sort the drool out."

I wiped my hand across my mouth and scowled at her as she drifted back into the living room, leaving my door wide open. She dropped onto the couch and continued to speak into the phone, sharing an upbeat conversation with Ray.

I fell backwards against the mattress, my head slamming into my pillow. I threw my arms over my eyes, hiding my face.

Why does this keep happening? Every night the same dream plagues me.

The dreams have worsened since he cut all ties almost three weeks ago. True to his word, he hasn't messaged me. He hasn't turned up at the club. I haven't heard his name be mentioned while at work. It's like he has fallen off the face of the earth. I had to Google his name just to confirm that he isn't a figment of my imagination. I typed his name in and was happily greeted with thousands of images of him at various functions. I also learned that he is a 28 year old self-made billionaire. He has been described as driven, invested in, and sated by his work – and only his work. He has never been seen with a woman. There's no known information about any girlfriends or wives.

"Ugh…" I groaned, rolling my head against my pillow. "I need a shower. A very, very cold shower."

* * *

"You did good tonight, Steele. And here I was thinking you were going to fuck up again," Cal laughed, slapping his hand between my shoulder blades. He rounded me and headed for the bar, disappearing behind it.

"Um, thanks… I think?" I smiled, clearing the last of the glasses from the tables. I stocked my carrier and took them to the washer behind the bar, getting them ready for use tomorrow evening.

Cal swerved past me, wanting to make a start on the box of spirits he brought out a few minutes ago. It's still early – only two thirty – and we have already closed up for the night. It was particularly busy this evening, with dozens of customers coming in and heading straight for the private rooms upstairs. My curiosity spiked with every person entering the club.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?" he groaned as he picked the box off the bar and dropped it to the floor. He crouched down and popped open the refrigerator, shoving the bottles inside.

"How long have you worked for Ms Lincoln?" I asked. I have thousands of questions racing through my mind, but I know I have to tread carefully. If I come out and straight up ask what's going on here, I'll be out the door before I can say Maîtrise.

He looked at me briefly, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. He shrugged. "I don't know, about four years. She opened a club in New York. I worked there before coming here."

"You're from New York, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh. Born and raised in Brooklyn. I'd never left New York before I came here."

"Really?" I jerked my head back, surprised at this admission. He strikes me as the kind of guy who has travelled, lived in too many places to remember. "Have you always done bar work?"

"Mostly," he nodded, taking another bottle from the box. He inspected it for a moment. "It's a quick and easy profession. There's always bar work going somewhere. When you need cash, you'll take whatever's going."

I picked up a towel from the side and began running it through my fingers, just to have something to do.

"I planned on going to college to study Math," he continued. His mouth relaxed and curled into a smile. His eyes lingered on the bottle in his hands. "I wanted to be a teacher."

"What happened?" I said quietly.

"Life happened," he shook his head and shoved the bottle inside the fridge and then slammed the door shut. "My dad died. It was just me and my little brother then. I had to drop out of school to get a job, take care of him."

"I'm so sorry," I pursed my lips. He rolled his shoulder, brushing it off. "What about your mom? Where was she when –"

"She left when Trent was a baby." He snapped, pushing back up to his feet. "He was five when dad died. I had just turned 17… he wasn't my real dad. He married my mom when I was three."

"Were you close with him?"

"He was my best friend." He nodded. He picked up the now empty box and threw it on the bar top. He pressed his palms around the lip of the counter. "But we did alright on our own. We coped."

"How old is your brother now?"

"Nineteen. He's at San Diego studying Molecular Biology."

"Wow, smart kid," I snorted a laugh. He nodded and flashed me a grin.

"Yeah, he is. He's part of the reason I started working with Lincoln. He was always fascinated by science. He knew from aged seven that he wanted to go to college. Someone had to pay for it," he made a clicking noise with his mouth. "What I earn working for her in one week is way more than I could get in a month elsewhere. Sometimes you just have to settle."

Something about the way he said 'part of the reason' lingered between us. It sounded dark and pained. I opened my mouth to enquire more about his family when he turned his head towards me, a grimace spread over his face.

"What's with all the questions tonight?"

"I… I…"

"You'll be asking for my shoe size next!" he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Thirteen, if you're curious. And I only do real leather."

I laughed nervously at his joke. I turned and pushed the towel underneath the bar. Cal worked his way around me and began the process of shutting down the register.

"Look, I don't make a habit of closing up early and I know Lincoln would blow up if she knew, but I've got plans. Some friends of mine are in the city. Tonight's the only night they're free."

"I won't say anything," I held my hands up in defence. He gestured to the staff room at the back of the club, a signal I've come to understand to mean 'get the hell out of here'.

I pushed through to the back room and collected my things, draping my coat over my arm. The other bartenders stand at the far end of the room, congregating around the kitchen area. They offer me a courteous nod of the head and smile as I say goodnight and escape through the exit.

The air greeted me with a cold, hard slap across the face. Shivers spread over my bare arms as I raced to my car, desperate to get inside and away from the bitter wind. Safely inside, I switched on the engine and turned up the heater. Wanda, my trusty VW, spluttered a few times and made a low groaning noise.

I waited until the lot was empty before reversing out. I watched everyone filter out from the club and jump into their respective cars, with Cal leaving last, punching in the key code to lock the doors and bring down the steel shutters. A black van sped into lot and stopped just inches in front of him. The side door flew open and Cal was dragged inside. He was laughing hard as he was tackled by a group of similarly looking males. Within seconds of the door sliding closed, the van raced off and left only me and my battered car in the parking lot.

Feeling a little warmer I kicked both myself and Wanda into gear, spurred on by thoughts of my toasty bed and a long sleep. I always feel tired at the end of a shift but it's been different recently. My endless nights of disturbed sleep have had a lasting effect on me. I wake up abruptly, out of breath and tingling all over, having just spent the dream in lustful passion with a certain Mr Grey.

I pulled out of the lot slowly and joined the street leading out from this block. My car felt heavy and dragged sluggishly against the road. I pushed my foot all the way down on the gas in an attempt to spring some life into it, but it struggled to reach more than ten mph.

"Come on, Wanda," I gripped the steering wheel and sat forward in my seat, willing it to move quicker. It crawled forward for another few feet, turning off into a side street, and then the engine died. Shuddering, Wanda came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the street. "No, don't do this to me, please don't do this."

I tried the ignition five times but it was no use. The car wheezed back at me before falling completely silent.

"Not so trusty now, are you Wanda?" I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. "Great, just what I needed."

My head fell back against the seat, a frustrated sigh brewing in my chest. I stared at the roof of the car and took several deep breaths. It's almost three in the morning and I'm stranded in a stupid car that won't budge.

I reached into my purse for my cell phone, hoping Kate will still be up. There are no new messages or missed calls waiting for my attention – not that I should be surprised.

I called the apartment phone. It rang out, no answer.

I called Kate's cell phone. No rings, straight to answering machine.

I tried Cal's number and the call didn't even connect – out of range, apparently.

I tried calling everyone I know in or around Seattle. I even tried calling Ray. No one answered. _Typical_…

I emptied my purse, hoping to come across the small business card Kate had given me, with the number for an out-of-hours mechanic. I searched every pocket and every darkened corner of the car. Nothing.

"Oh fuck…" I breathed, convincing myself something had moved in the corner of my eye, on the other side of the street.

My skin prickled.

I squinted and looked out of the windows, checking all around the car. The street is in near darkness, all of the buildings nearby dead and empty.

"Who can I call?" I bounced in my seat.

I opened up the contacts list in my cell phone and scrolled through the stream of names.

I stopped at the letter C. My heart quickened. It's a long shot…

I pressed green and held the phone to my ear, hearing it dial out.

"Please pick up…" I whispered, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

Oh god, what if he doesn't pick up? What if the next person to fly around that corner isn't a knight in shining armour, but a serial killer with an empty trunk and an axe on his back seat?

_He won't pick up; no one answers unknown calls. He deleted my number_ –

"Hello?"

"_Hello?_" I repeated back into the phone, my breath stolen for a moment. I gulped. "You answered."

"Yes, that's what you usually do when your phone rings." Christian mumbled. "Is something wrong, Anastasia? It's three in the morning."

I licked my lips, my whole mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"Is something wrong?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"What is it?" his voice hardened. "Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine… it's my car. I've broken down." I told him, rushing the words out. "It just died. I don't know what happened. I left the lot and then it stopped and now I'm in the middle of the –"

"Shh… you need to slow down, I can't understand what you're saying." He interrupted me and then sighed. "Your car has broken down?"

"Yes."

"Where? Where are you now?"

"Erm, a few streets away from the club. I took a turning." I swivelled on my seat, trying to spot a sign.

"You parked in the lot behind the club?"

"Yeah."

"Did you turn left or right out of the lot?"

"Left. And then left again. The first turning."

"Okay, I know where you are." He exhaled harshly in my ear. "Stay exactly where you are. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stay in your car and lock the doors. Do not open the door. Sit and wait until I get there, do you understand?" he ordered, hard and dominant with me. "Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes. I won't open the door." I muttered, nodding my head frantically.

"I will be there soon." He said before he ended the call.

I turned and locked the door, checking all the windows are up and secure. I sat back in my seat and felt my stomach drop. He sounded annoyed, maybe even angry. What if he's pissed that I called him? He clearly never wanted to hear from me again. Why else would he delete my number?

"Kate, why couldn't you have answered the bloody phone!?"

It was the longest ten minutes of my life, waiting for Christian to reach me. I panicked as I saw a pair of luminous headlights approach the rear of my car, racing and then coming to an emergency stop.

Christian climbed out of the sports car and jogged to my door. He bent forward and rapped his knuckles on the window. And even though I was watching him through the mirror, his appearance still caused me to jump.

I wound down the window.

"Are you okay?" he leaned on the door, pressing his hand onto the roof of the car. I nodded. He reached inside and unlocked the door, opening it up. "What happened?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. I stepped out of the car. We stood inches from each other for a second. His breath fogged in front of him, drifting into my face. He shook his head and moved back, pointing to the back of my car.

"I'll check the engine," he said, knowing that the engine is in the trunk of these cars. He cracked open the lid and used the headlights of his car as a flashlight. I teetered towards him, observing him as he stooped and examined the contents of the engine. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a dark hoodie, the collar of a white t-shirt underneath the opening at his throat. His hair is dark, damp even, and dishevelled.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you." I whispered.

"It's fine." He shook his head. "Was it okay before it stopped?"

"It took a few goes to turn it on, but it's an old car. It never starts on the first attempt." I crossed my arms around my chest. My exposed forearms showed signs of the crisp night air, dotted with shivers.

"Sounds like it could be your battery then. Do you mind if I try it now?" he glanced at me briefly, refusing to hold my gaze for more than a few moments.

I shook my head and handed him the keys. He stepped back to the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the lock several times. Wanda didn't fall for his devilish good looks either.

"It's dead," he sighed. "I would give you a jump start but I don't think it'll work. Not on a car this old. Best place for it would be a junkyard."

My brows sagged. I raked my hands over my face and huffed. I have put so much money into this car; the last thing I want is for it to become nothing more than spare parts. Christian came to my side, offering me a sorrowed expression.

"I can get someone to tow it. There's an auto-repair shop a couple blocks from here. I know the owner. He'll be able to take a look at it for you." He folded his arms and shifted his feet further apart. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Thank you. Thank you for coming." I smiled to him. "There was no one else to call. I already tried everyone else."

"So I was your last resort?" he smirked slightly. My mouth fell open. He shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just glad I had my phone near me."

I stared at him, taking in every detail of his face, hair and posture.

My eyes fell to the floor between our feet. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you, if you were in the middle of doing something…"

_Or someone_… I've seen hair like that before – as dishevelled as that – and it's usually on Kate after she's taken another man to her bed.

I felt sick at the thought of him with someone else.

"I was working." He announced. "I was on a video call to Singapore."

"You know people in Singapore?"

He laughed at me. "Get your things and anything valuable you have in your car. I'll drive you home."

"Oh I don't… you don't have to take me home." I held my hands out and shook them in front of me. "I don't live that far from here. I can walk." I lied.

"Anastasia –"

"Thank you for the offer but really I –"

"I know where you live. It will take you hours to walk there, especially in those shoes." He nodded to my feet. His tone was sharp and unyielding. "I won't take no for an answer. It's not safe for you to walk home, even if you lived ten seconds away. Now grab whatever you want to take with you and get in my car. You'll freeze to death if you stand here arguing with me."

He turned his back on me and moved back to his car, returning to his seat and closing the door behind him. I hesitated before collecting my coat and purse from my car, even more so when I opened the passenger door of his pristine, notably expensive Audi.

I carefully eased my way into the passenger's seat and tugged the door to a soft close. I held my coat and purse on my lap after clicking the seat belt into place.

"Give me the keys," he opened his palm up to me. I dropped them into the centre of his hand. "I'll make sure your car is the first one they look at in the morning."

"Thank you." I looked down at my red hands. I didn't want to move or breathe too deeply, scared I might rip the upholstery of his pride and joy. With a car this beautiful, it must be his favourite toy to play with.

The engine purred to life, humming quietly around us. He reversed us away from my car, abandoning it, taking us back to the main street. He steered the car right at the end of the block, heading towards the highway and my usual route home.

I didn't have to give him any directions and he didn't rely on the in-built GPS.

_I know where you live_…

I glanced at the clock on his dashboard as he slowed the car down, approaching my apartment. 3:29am. I unbuckled my seat belt but didn't climb out. Not straight away. It took a few minutes for me to find my voice.

"Did you follow me home on the day of my interview?" I asked, fixing my eyes on the front door of my building. "Is that how you know where I live? Because I was sure there was a car following me, and it looked exactly like the SUV you got in the last time I saw you."

He huffed. His palms squeaked as he tightened his fingers around the wheel.

"Yes." He groaned. "I saw how upset you were, so I wanted to make sure you got home okay. But I also had access to your personal information," he reminded me, "I knew your address from there."

I gulped before asking my next question. "It was you. You got me the job at the club, didn't you?"

I saw him nod from the corner of my eye.

"Okay."

I gathered my things and opened the door, stepping out of it brusquely. I turned in the doorway and looked inside to him, but he had already climbed out, now standing opposite me. He pursed his lips together.

"I'll walk you to the door," he said quietly.

He rounded the car and side-stepped me, pushing the door to a close. He remained a few steps away from me as I walked to the front door, the pair of us silent with just the sounds of his sneakers and my heels signalling out movements. Before reaching the door I pulled my house keys from my bag.

"I'll organise for your car to be towed in the morning," his hand came to rest on my elbow. I trembled all over.

I spun on the spot and he dropped his hand. Our eyes met and neither of us dropped the contest. His throat bobbed.

"Will you be coming to the club anytime soon?" I breathed, but I mean to ask whether I'll see him again.

"Elena has everything under control." He shook his head. "You should head inside. It's cold out here."

He gave me a smile and then bowed his head. He turned and began to head back down the small path leading from the building to the sidewalk. He brought both hands to his hair and ran his fingers through the tangled mess.

"Just so you know," I spoke up, stepping forward an inch. He lifted his head and twisted towards me. "I liked it. I liked it when you messaged me."

His eyes widened.

"I don't know what was said between you and Cal and Ms Lincoln, but I just wanted you to know that I wasn't offended by you messaging me. And I wouldn't be offended if you messaged me again sometime. I think I'd quite like it if you did."

"That's good to know." He nodded slowly. He opened his car door.

"You knew it was me calling you," I stopped him from climbing into the car and leaving me. "How did you know?"

He didn't look up at me this time.

"I couldn't do it," he pursed his lips. "I couldn't bring myself to delete your number."

My core vibrated, radiating through every inch of my being.

"I'll arrange for someone to drive you to and from work until your car is fixed." He said, holding onto the door. I nodded. I didn't object his offer. "I have to go. I have work later."

"Thank you for coming to get me."

"You've already thanked me. Once is enough." He shook his head.

"Not for me it isn't." I caught his eye and in that second I think he knew exactly what I meant. "Good morning, Mr Grey." I smiled, twisting my body back towards the building.

"Good morning, Anastasia." He attempted to return my smile.

"Ana," I corrected him. "Please call me Ana."

"Only if you call me Christian."

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from grinning. I nodded, "Christian."

I opened the door and stepped inside the warmth of the building. I refused to steal another glance of him before I closed the door. I didn't need to. I knew he would be in my dreams the second my head touched my pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Rustyarbor50** – Thank you! Really glad you liked it. :) Much Love x

**LA** – Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it! This Ana certainly has some fuel in her tank, that's for sure. I think things are heating up a little now… ;) Hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thanks, my lovely! Glad you liked it. :) Glad you're liking this version of Christian, too! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

**SuzB** – I don't think we'll have long before we/Ana find out what really goes on the club… ;) Thank you! Much Love x

**Holland** – Thank you, my lovely! So pleased you're enjoying it. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

* * *

**Hello!**

**I'm keeping this AN short and sweet. Just want to say that I am blown away by your support and enthusiasm for this story. Hugs to you all.**

**Hope you enjoy this one! (As always, I'll come back and edit properly tomorrow. Please excuse silly mistakes!)**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I was able to steal only a few hours' sleep before I was abruptly woken by the smell of freshly made pancakes seeping through my bedroom door. I rolled onto my side and sat up at the edge of my bed, rubbing hard at my eyes. My curtains are cheap and thin, letting all the early morning sun flood my room. I really should invest in some blackouts if I'm going to be nocturnal.

Before standing up I stretched across to my bedside table and grabbed my cell phone, unplugging it from its charger. I checked my messages and found two waiting for my attention. The first was from my mother, to cancel our weekly phone call. _Again!_ I shook my head, wondering why I'm even surprised. I deleted that message and opened the second. Its sender is Elliott Tire and Service.

_Ms Steele, we received your VW BEETLE at 08:29 this morning. Your reference number is 1806CTG. You will be contacted when we have looked at your vehicle. ETS._

He stuck to his word, I hummed to myself. I opened up a blank message and typed a quick text to him:

_Thank you for getting my car towed. _

His replies bounced into my inbox instantly, hardly a minute passing. I was a little slower at responding, finding that my fingers were shaking and reluctant to work properly.

_No problem. My driver will pick you up at 10pm this evening. C_

_Thank you. For everything._

_You said that already. _

_I know. Thank you. Again. _

_You're very welcome, Ana. C_

I locked my screen and pushed my phone into the front pocket of my sweat pants. I released a long, unsteady breath. I feel butterflies in my stomach every time I think of him, every time I imagine his perfect, handsome face.

I pulled my hair into a messy top knot and shuffled out into the main body of the apartment, in search of some breakfast. I found Kate sitting at the counter, her legs elegantly crossed, and her attention devoted to today's newspaper – a copy of _The Seattle Times_, unsurprisingly.

"I made you a plate. It's in the microwave. It's still hot." She told me, hardly looking up from her paper. I nodded and collected the plate, bringing it to the empty space beside her. I dropped onto the stool with a sigh and poured some tea from the pot.

"Are you not working today?" I asked, noting her casual attire of a striped sweater and skinny jeans. She shook her head and folded up the newspaper, tossing it aside.

"No, I took the day off. I worked late last night, chasing up a new story." She nodded her head to the discarded paper, letting out an annoyed groan. "And they didn't even bother printing it this morning… what time did you get back from work?"

"Early," I sipped at my tea. Twining's, my favourite. "The club closed early last night."

"Not enough customers?"

I shook my head. "The manager had something to do, so he let us go early."

"Not too bad then," Kate smiled, "An easy night, huh?"

"Not exactly. Wanda died on me." I corrected her. The smile on her lips disappeared immediately. "I left work, got as far as the next street and she died."

"Oh my god! What happened?" she asked, quickly shaking her head. "How did you get home? God, please tell me you didn't walk home?"

"No, I didn't walk home," I rolled my eyes at her. I shovelled some of my pancakes into my mouth. "The car wouldn't budge so I had to call around and see if someone was still awake. I tried you a couple times."

"My phone was off," she sighed, chastising herself. She pursed her lips and threw her head back. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I shrugged it off. "I managed to get through to someone. He came and picked me up, drove me home. He's also arranged for Wanda to get repaired."

"That's good, I'm glad you got home okay in the end," she sounded relieved. She lifted her cup to her lips and took a slow sip, pausing for thought. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Wait, what? _He?_ He picked you up? He as in a man?"

"He is usually used as a pronoun for a man, yes." I quipped through a mouthful of bacon and syrup. Her brows twitched in that 'don't sass me' sort of way. "Yes, a man picked me up and brought me home."

"A hot man?"

"He's not your type," I shook my head, dispelling that train of thought from her mind. She wrinkled her nose at me, staring at me for several seconds. "What?" I asked, quickly wiping my hand across my chin, wondering if I have drooled. "What are you staring at?"

"He might not be my type, but he's definitely yours. You like him." She grinned hard, her dimples coming out in full force. I dropped my fork and grabbed a nearby napkin. I tried to hide the redness brewing in my cheeks by holding the napkin to my face. "Oh it is so obvious! You're smitten."

"I am not," I shook my head and gulped.

"Aw, Ana's got a boyfriend!" she sang in a girly, high-pitched squeal. My cheeks burned.

"I do not have a boyfriend." I shot her down. I said it with a little too much disappointment in my tone. "He's not my boyfriend. He's my boss –"

I silenced myself. Cal's angry voice popped into my head, reminding me that Christian is a silent partner. I'm not allowed to reveal that he owns half the club. _A place like this runs off being discreet, Steele_…

"He's my boss's friend," I said quickly, but immediately regretted it, wondering if that's still too much information. The words started trickling from my mouth like water, completely unstoppable. "He's not my friend. I've only met him a couple times. He came to the club and we talked. Just a few times."

Kate narrowed her eyes at me, her interest peaking with every word I spoke. "You've only talked to him a few times?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"So some guy you've met a couple times, only spoken to about the same amount, just dropped whatever he was doing to come pick you up?"

"He was working," I added as if it would help explain the situation better, but I doubt it did. I can hardly make sense of it all.

"It's obvious he likes you. Not every man would come running when you call them. Well, unless it's for a booty call." She snorted. I know she has had experience of this. While some women worry about receiving that call – the one where a guy contacts you only because he's horny and desperate – Kate openly makes those calls. She has a backlog of men on standby.

"He wants you," she declared.

"I don't think he does," I shook my head. I rubbed my hand down my cheek. It's on fire and clammy. "He's really hot and cold with me. One minute he's being cute and putting kisses at the end of texts, and then he goes arctic and says he should never have contacted me in the first place and that he won't bother me again."

"Wow…" Kate jerked her head back, her eyes widening.

"I know. Total head trip."

"What was he like last night?"

"He was really tense and on edge when I told him what had happened to Wanda. He didn't hesitate. He told me to lock myself in the car and stay there. He was there within minutes." I explained slowly. I began tearing at the napkin, ripping it to shreds. "He was off with me… distant… but I could feel something, I can't explain it. I told him I would walk home, but he wouldn't let me. And then he walked me to the door and…" I trailed off.

"And what?" she prompted me.

"We kinda had a moment."

"A moment?" she repeated, twisting the words with her confusion.

"I told him that I didn't mind him contacting me and that I would like it if he messaged me again sometime."

She rolled her lips inwards and held back a laugh. "That's very sweet. Pretty high school, but still sweet. What did he say back?"

"That's good to know," I repeated word-for-word, imitating his voice. "I asked him if he would be coming to the club again, but he shook his head. He said that while Wanda's getting fixed, his driver will escort me to and from work."

"Wait, so this guy comes running when you call him, he stays up all night working –"

"On a call to Singapore," I added.

"He pays for your car to be towed to a shop for repairs, probably gave them a down payment too, and now he's getting his driver to ferry you around the city?" she reeled, checking off each point on her fingertips. "Who the fuck is he, Donald Trump? He must be pissing money!"

I fell quiet for a moment. When I didn't answer her, she continued her ambush.

"Must be rich to do all that for someone he's spoken to only a handful of times." She whistled.

"He's a businessman," I nodded.

"What kind of business?"

"I'm not sure." I said honestly. Google didn't tell reveal much about him. "He owns Grey Enterprises Holdings."

"What!?" Kate shrieked, slamming her hand on the counter.

_Me and my big mouth…_

"Grey Enterprises Holdings?" she echoed, holding her hand to her chest. She gasped. "Christian Grey? You're seeing Christian Grey? Holy fuck…"

"Kate, I'm not seeing him." I repeated, hoping to reaffirm this in her mind. _Boy, I wish I was seeing him though_…

"Do you have any idea who he is?" her voice quietened.

"I did a basic Google search. He's an enigma. Only surface level information on him."

"Because he's shady as fuck!" she announced. "He is arrogant and pompous. God, I tried for seven months to get him to agree to be interviewed for the college paper, and every time he got his assistant to call me back and say that Mr Grey doesn't do interviews. _His assistant_. The fucker couldn't even call me himself to tell me that. He doesn't talk to press. His PR talks to press. He gives public speeches but that's it."

I made to say something but she continued on her rant. She told me about the cold words others have said about him in the papers and online, the rumours that swirl around him every day. She told me about the campaigns he's invested in, the charities that he tirelessly donates to. He's a philanthropist and seeks to end child poverty. He's adopted, and so are his siblings – a brother and a sister, older and younger respectively. His parents are well respected professionals in their own right – an attorney and a doctor. All of the information she provided were evidence of detailed searches, hours spent online trying to drag up anything on the reclusive Christian Grey.

"He has the power to make or break anyone. He can bankrupt companies with just a wave of his finger. No one should have that much control. It's not healthy." Kate frowned. She pushed her plate forward, moving it along the counter. "Getting an interview with him could make my career. I could work for any publication in the world. But nope, it's too much for him."

"Maybe he's just a really private person," I tried to soften her mood.

"You don't avoid the press, or anyone associated with it, this much just because you value your privacy. He has something to hide." She shook her head. "There's something weird about him. And I'm not just saying that because he's effectively ruining my job prospects. You should stay away from him. He's not human. He can't be."

I pressed my lips together, turning them white.

"Do you really want to get caught up in his world? A world no one gets to see?" she asked rhetorically as she stepped down from her stool. She picked up her plate and dropped it into the sink, making a clatter.

* * *

My beloved Wanda was out of order for a week, which meant I had the delight of sitting awkwardly in the back of Christian's SUV for four nights. His driver was quieter than a church mouse, uttering only monosyllabic sounds to me. He arrived promptly before my shift, and was waiting patiently when I finished. He was maybe late thirties with shortly cropped hair and hazel eyes that had lines skirting off at the sides. He looked honest – reserved, but honest.

Every morning the repair shop owner called to update me on the progress of the repairs. Being such an old, battered thing, my girl needed more than a little facelift. After they had fixed the initial problem of my dead battery, they uncovered new faults, damages and issues they weren't happy to ignore. This morning they called with the news I had been waiting for: Wanda can come home. But at what cost? I almost collapsed when they told me just how much it cost to put my car back together. It was way more than I had expected. It would have taken me months to pay off the debt, even with my decent salary from Maîtrise.

I didn't need to panic about the debt. Because there was no debt. The amount due had been paid in full. The owner of the shop chuckled into the phone, happily announcing: 'The bill was settled this morning. Mr Grey took care of it. He paid off the balance and asked us to call you when it was fixed.'

Another addition to the long list of things he's done for me. I tried calling Christian, but he didn't answer. I gave up after three attempts, shoving my phone back into my purse.

He can't just pay for the repairs like that. I know he's rich, but this is getting ridiculous. He threw away almost $3,500 just to put my car back on the road. I don't think my car is even worth that amount of money. I'll have to pay him back. I can't accept this gift, if that's what it is. God, it's not as if we're married. Even then I would pay for my own damned car repairs!

I turned up an hour later for shift that evening, having asked Cal if I could start at 11:30pm. I needed a little extra time to myself – a little extra time to try to get in contact with Christian. It was frivolous. I swung Wanda into my usual spot and locked her up. The lot is pretty full this evening, with only a few spaces available. The space reserved for Mr C Grey being one of them. I darted into the staff room, slamming the door shut behind me. The music from the bar irritated my ears, blaring loudly through the walls. It's different tonight. It's a deep, throaty tune made up of only string instruments. It's odd and makes my insides squirm.

Like the parking lot, the bar is full. Almost all of the tables and booths are occupied, couples, threesomes, and larger groups sitting together, laughing, stroking body parts, conversations rife. I rolled my eyes as I walked past some of the more amorous couples. You can tell Valentine's Day is still lingering the air. I spent the big day by myself, having a long soak in the bath while Kate romped her way to exhaustion.

I tamed my hair into a ponytail as I slipped behind the bar, joining the wave of tenders filling orders. Cal smiled at me as I sidestepped him. Since his friends arrived in the city, he's been in a better mood. He's still as sarcastic, quick tempered and grumpy, but he's been easier to deal with. I feel more at ease around him now. I feel like I can talk to him now – ask him things without fear he'll snap at me or think I'm stupid.

I took my place at the far end of the bar, near one of the four cash registers. I was immediately ambushed with orders and requests, and found myself rushing around, flummoxed at times. My first customer was a well-dressed older gentleman with a stock of white hair. He ordered a large round of drinks for his table, and threw an excessive amount of money at me. He insisted that I join him for a drink and pocket the cash. I felt queasy at his lingering eye and did neither of those things. I avoided him at all costs and deposited the money into the silver box under the bar, where all tips are kept until the end of the night when they are shared out amongst everyone.

"Hey, how's it going, new girl?" Abi, one of the other bartenders, sang sweetly to me, coming to rest at my side. She's the nicest of them, and always happy to stand and talk to me. She's beautiful with her envious curves, long caramel hair and dark eyes. Her mixed race heritage makes her skin glow without the need for makeup, utterly flawless. She is usually on duty upstairs, like everyone else. It's a surprise to see so many of them down here. Usually it's just me and Cal.

"Good," I nodded, handing a glass of champagne to a woman in a long black dress. I smoothed my hands against my head, to flatten any flyaway strands of hair. "God, it's busy tonight."

"Lincoln put on a Valentine's weekend special. Discount prices for all members," she told me, turning to retrieve the empty bottle of Vodka hanging on the wall, replacing it with a new one. "We'll be busy all weekend. I suppose it will help the nights go quicker. It can get so boring up there sometimes," she nodded her head in the direction of the staircase.

"Does it get really quiet up there then?" I asked, curiously.

"Quiet, no. Definitely not quiet," she giggled to herself, shaking her head. "No, what I mean is, we're normally just sitting around, waiting for orders to come through."

"How often do you get orders?"

She shrugged and secured the bottle to the wall. She stepped back and tugged her shirt into place. "It depends on which members are in. Some of them are more demanding than others. We have some that like to just lock themselves away, do their thing and then leave. They usually send their orders and requests in advance… but others like the attention. They ask us to be in the room with them, observing everything."

"Observing?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

"To make sure everything remains above board, usually." She nodded.

"Like their business deals? Are you guys kinda like their lawyers then?" I queried and immediately knew I was wrong. Her mouth fell open and her brows lifted high up her forehead. She stared at something over my shoulder. I turned and saw Cal behind me, glaring at Abi with a frown.

"I… I should probably head upstairs. Rebekah's alone up there and she's due a break," Abi fumbled. She patted my upper arm and spun abruptly on her heels. "I'll catch you later, new girl."

And with that she disappeared from view, leaving me perplexed and stationary. I moved around the bar to stand at the other end, where I can see the gothic staircase in full view. The stairs are lined with burgundy carpet, the balustrade carved with intricate shapes. I served a few other members of the club. One of them asked for a room upstairs and seemed very eager to get up there. I searched and grabbed the tablet that we use to record the use of the rooms. On it is a floor plan of the landing, each room numbered. To reserve or make a booking, you need to click the room, enter the name of the member, how long they require the room, and click confirm. I've come to learn that there is a similar tablet upstairs, along with another bar. The tablet upstairs updates this one when a room becomes available, sending a notification each time. All I have to do is make the booking, hand over the key, and smile. Just once I want to escort someone up there, to catch a glimpse for myself.

I entered all the required details and sent the member on her way. I held the tablet against my stomach for a moment, before crouching to place it back on its designated shelf. I pushed it aside, into the darkness. It lit up on its own, a bright blue box flashing madly on the screen. I frowned and picked it back up, reading the message:

_MLO: Large Bourbon – neat._

"Huh?" I reread it, trying to make sense of what it means. I grabbed the attention of one of the male bartenders as he darted past me, heading for the refrigerator. "Do you know what this means?"

I held the screen out to him. He squinted and stepped closer, to read the message. He shoved four bottles of beer into the crook of his arm, and took a bottle of Champagne with his free hand. His golden hair is slicked back in a suave, fifties style cut. The uniform for male bartenders is similar to ours – a plain, fitted black shirt, allowed to be open to the second button but no lower; pressed black slacks, also fitted; belts are permitted but have to be simple and made of real leather; and smart dress shoes, polished and laced at all times.

"Ms Lincoln's office," he nodded. He tapped the screen and made the message disappear. "She's ordered a drink."

_Oh god_… my stomach flipped at the thought of her being here.

"When she's busy, she doesn't come out of the office. If she wants something, she orders it through this. It's hooked up to her laptop." He explained. "I'll cover the bar. You can sort out the bitch's drink."

_I'd like to see you call her that to her face_, I thought to myself as he ditched me for a pretty redhead sitting at the bar.

I checked the liquor bottles twice to make sure I had the right one, and then poured the golden brown liquid into a small glass. I estimated what a large Bourbon should look like; I've only managed single measures 'til now. I ran a towel around the glass to rid it of fingerprints, and placed it in the centre of a black tray. Ms Lincoln hates fingerprints on her glasses.

The tray shook as I carried it, and my footing was unsteady. I rocked on my heels as I walked to the door, trying to brace myself and slow down my breaths. I hate being around her. I hesitated at the door, convincing myself that if she's busy – too busy to come out of the office to get the drink herself – then she will be too busy to notice me. She will be engrossed in her work and I can just put the drink down on her desk and leave.

_As if it will be that simple_… my subconscious tutted, shaking her head at my naivety.

I didn't bother to knock the door before entering. I knew she wouldn't answer me, anyway. She only ever shouts at me. She took an instant dislike to me the second I walked into the building for my interview. And she's made no efforts to disguise her feelings.

The office is in silence, except for quick tapping on the laptop's keyboard. It's quite dark, the room lit only by the chandelier overhead, which is on the lowest setting. I can't make out the paintings on the walls, which I think is a relief. They unnerve me with their naked women bent over various pieces of furniture.

I juggled the tray with my left hand, using my right to turn and shut the door. The office is the only room that is sound proofed. Once the door is shut, the frenetic energy of the bar is silenced and becomes non-existent. The door clicked and stalled the tapping of the keyboard. I exhaled a long breath and turned slowly to face the desk.

"Oh –"

I let go of the tray. It slipped clean out of my grip. The glass tumbled over and rolled off the tray, falling freely to the floor. The sharp smelling alcohol splashed around the tray as it too fell to the ground, crashing at my feet. My heart pounded in my chest.

"Christian –" my breath hitched.

He's sat at the desk, smothered in the blue tinged light from the computer. He snapped his head up, his intense gaze raking over me. His jaw twitched and his brows lowered around his eyes with a frown. He let out an annoyed breath.

"I'm sorry," I said as I dropped to my knees, my head bowed. I put my hands out in front of me and grabbed the glass, turning it upright and placing it back on the tray. The plush plum rug broke its fall, saving it from shattering all over the place.

In my periphery, I watched him rise from the desk and stalk towards me. He stopped in front of me and crouched down. He placed his hands over mine, stopping my frantic movements. His palms are cool and send a shiver up my arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, gently squeezing my fingers.

I lifted my eyes to his. His expression was unreadable and frozen, just those slate grey eyes moving. He glanced to my hands in his. He turned my palms upwards and checked for cuts, running his thumbs along my life lines. He hovered over the now tiny mark on my left palm.

"How did you get this?" he questioned, elevating my hand slightly.

"I cut my hand on some glass a few weeks ago." I mumbled to him.

"While at work?"

I nodded. "Cal cleaned it up for me. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"It won't scar," he said after a few seconds. He gave me a quick, reassuring smile. "You'll hardly see it in a week or so. Trust me."

"I do," I blurted to him. He scowled and closed his eyes on me. He stood up and pulled me to my feet, leaving the tray and glass on the floor between us. He held onto me, keeping me steady. "I'm sorry," I said, forcing him to open his eyes. "I wasn't expecting you. You gave me a fright."

"Elena's away on business. She asked me to keep an eye on things here." He justified his presence. His tone was low and heavy. _Cold Christian again_…

He dropped his hands and let them fall to his sides.

"I tried calling you," I said to him. "You didn't answer."

"I've been busy," was all he had to say. His response annoyed me.

"You paid for my car repairs. You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to."

"Why?"

"I don't need a reason why." He shook his head, shooting me down. "And you're welcome, by the way."

"I appreciate the gesture, but it's too much. I'll have to pay you back." I told him, adopting my hardest tone.

"No, you don't." He matched my tone, but made mine sound positively childish. "I won't accept any money from you, Ana. I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?" I asked, desperate to know the answer.

His lips parted and then closed. His eyes flickered between my mouth and the top of my head. His gaze lingered on my hair.

"May I?" he arched his brow and raised his hands, pointing to my ponytail. I didn't stop him from whatever he intended to do.

He eased forward slightly, stepping over the tray. He reached behind my head and tugged on my hair tie, freeing my ponytail. It fell in waves around my shoulders. He discarded the tie and ran his fingers through my hair, from scalp to ends, massaging and detangling deftly.

He cracked a smile.

"This is what I want," he nodded. "When you're here, you should have it down."

"Ms Lincoln doesn't like it. She shouted," I whispered. My throat is so dry. "She ordered me to keep it up."

He didn't react to my admission. His fingers slipped once more through my hair and then his hands returned to his sides. He stood still, admiring his creation.

His scent trickled my nose and senses. He's so close… his jaw is so sharp and smooth… his lips look so soft…

I don't know what came over me. I don't know what provoked me to do it. It was instinctive. I had no idea what I was doing until I was doing it.

I lunged forward and grabbed his face between my hands. I yanked him down to my level and I smacked my lips to his, stealing a kiss from those soft lips. And the worst thing is that I didn't even move my lips once they were on his. I just stood there, my mouth stuck on him like a suction pump.

His lips twitched under mine. He stared at me during the whole debacle.

_Shit!_

He lifted his hands and gripped my waist. He pressed his fingers into my shirt and pushed me backwards, prising me from him. Our lips separated with a loud, wet noise.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck…_ He frowned at me, giving me a 'what the hell was that' kind of look. My chin quivered. I quickly pushed my hand to my mouth and covered the offending body part with shame. Why did I do that!?

"I'm sorry," I panted. I shook my head hysterically. "I'm so sorry. I don't…"

I stooped down and picked up the tray and glass from the floor. I moved quickly and stumbled, fleeing and heading for the door.

"I'll get you another drink." I said in a rush. I turned my back on him and grabbed the door handle. My hands are sweaty and shaking worse than ever. I'm mortified.

I cracked the door open ajar –

He came up behind me and slammed his hand onto the door. I jumped and gasped at the sound of the wood crashing back into the frame with a thud.

His arm brushed mine; his breath loud in my ear. I dipped my chin, biding my time before I twisted to look at him. I couldn't look at him as I turned. I couldn't bear it.

He stole the tray from me and threw it across the room, sending it flying. The glass shattered as it bounced off the wall.

"I was just going to get you another drink," I muttered.

He brought his hand to my chin and forced my head up. When I finally plucked up the courage to look at him, I didn't find anger on his face. I saw something else. Something heated. Animalistic.

"Your drink –"

"Fuck the drink," he grunted.

He took my jaw with his right hand and pressed the other into my stomach. He pushed me back against the door, until I was flush to it. He slammed his mouth to mine and kissed me. Hard. His tongue darted from his mouth and ordered my lips apart. He lapped at me and coxed me into a frenzied, rough, body trembling groan. He used his hips to pin me to the door, grinding them slowly into mine. My eyes widened as I felt him swell and turn hard.

I moaned as he pulled his head back. I blinked rapidly. He hovered over me, the pair of us breathless and panting. His fingers sank down the length of my throat, pausing at the opening of my shirt.

"Get back to work," he ordered, but he didn't let me go. "Stay behind after your shift. We need to talk."

"We… we do?"

"You know we do," he nodded and sent me on my way.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**SuzB** – Yes! And so I begins! :) I have been looking forward to this very chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you! Much Love x

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* * *

**Hello my lovelies!**

**Soooooooooooo amazing to hear you enjoyed the last chapter! I absolutely loved writing it from start to finish - which is kinda weird to say because usually I hate chapters during editing and flushing out. (Apologies to those who don't know me personally and won't understand what I mean by flushing out!)**

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**Chelsea x**

* * *

"Hey, new girl – you comin' or what?" Abi shouted across the quiet and now empty bar. She stood by the staff room door, propping it open with her hip. "We're all heading for breakfast. It's on Cal."

"Like fuck it is!" Cal snorted, slamming the cash register shut. He started counting through the roll of cash he's just collected from it. "I'll stretch to a cup of coffee but that's it. You fuckers get enough out of me as it is."

Abi rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, "He'll pick up the tab. He always does. He's a big softie, really."

"I heard that," he grunted, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

"Um, I think I'm just going to head home," I shook my head, offering a semi-convincing smile to them both. I carried my tray of glasses back to the bar, depositing them into the racks for tomorrow. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"You sure?" Abi jerked her head back and frowned. "We don't bite! And if Cal won't pay for pancakes, I will. Come on, join us!"

I turned my head away and glanced at the office door for a moment. I haven't seen Christian since I left the office and returned to my shift. He hasn't made an appearance. He hasn't sent any additional requests through to the tablet – not even to ask for the drink I said I would get him but completely forgot about.

When I emerged from the office, Cal was the first to comment on my flushed appearance. He assumed I had had another altercation with Ms Lincoln. I realised then that no one knew exactly who was inside the office. And I kept it that way. I jumped back into serving drinks and clearing tables, counting the minutes until the end of my shift.

"I'm sure," I shook my head softly. "I'm really tired. Maybe next time?"

"Well I'm having your share. See you tomorrow," she smiled, twisting into the staff room to join the others as they collected their things. I nodded and she let the door fall to a close. Laughter seeped from the room, so carefree and easy. All of the other bartenders are close to one another, they have bonds that link them. And then there's me. _Little Miss Clueless_.

I left Cal to his counting and entered the staff room, just moments after everyone else piled out. I slowly pulled my new coat on, taking my time to fasten the buttons and tie the belt around my waist. Waiting until the coast was clear, I finally stepped out into the parking lot, quickly teetering to my car. I have to keep up the pretence. Cal is always the last of us to leave the building; he'd start asking questions if I hovered in the back. About ten minutes after I left, he emerged from the building, carrying his jacket over his shoulder. He gave me a curt nod before jumping into his grey Chevy and driving off into the night.

"Right… Let's do this," I coached myself, twisting and arching my neck to free up the tension that has built in it over the course of my shift. I shoved my bag under the passenger seat, hiding it from view, and then climbed back out into the cool breeze.

I looked all around before I opened the club door, to check there is no one to catch me sneaking back inside. Wanda is the only vehicle left in the lot, and there's hardly a bustle skirting through the air. Inside the club was just as quiet, eerie with its lack of music and the scurrying of tenders. I set my sights on the office, finding myself being drawn to it like a magnet.

_Wait_… my mind stalled my steps. _My car is the only one in the lot. What if he's gone home? What if he_ –

"There you are," Christian yanked the door open and huffed. He rocked uneasily on his feet, his broad frame almost filling the doorway. "Where did you go?"

"I had to leave. Everyone else was leaving and I didn't want them to –"

"Come in," he interrupted me.

He turned his head away and stepped aside, giving me room to enter. I shuffled passed him and headed for the desk, opting for one of the simple black chairs in front of it.

"How was your shift?" he asked, breaking the silence. He grabbed the arms of my chair and sharply yanked it across the floor, to face him head on. He turned the other black chair and sat down on it, opposite me. "That's better," he gave a quick smile. "Your shift – how did it go?"

"Um, okay, I guess," I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn't hold his gaze for more than a moment at a time. I feel myself blushing each time I look at him, remembering how I pounced on him earlier. I glanced around, my eyes falling to the desk. There is a stack of papers all piled up on it, along with a series of envelopes. "Is that all stuff for the club?"

"Yes," he nodded in the corner of my eye. "Accounts, contracts, membership forms. All very boring stuff."

"Sounds it," I snorted a quiet laugh. I dropped my head forward. My fingers knotted nervously in my lap. "Why am I here, Christian?"

"Because we need to talk," he said easily, in his dark, gravelly voice. "After what happened earlier, it's important that we discuss some things, to make sure we're both on the same page."

I inhaled a shaky breath.

"Can I ask you something first?"

I lifted my eyes when he didn't answer. He jerked his head forward once, in a nod, and then stared at me. I could feel my pulse banging in my temples.

"Earlier, when you kissed me back…" I paused, my mouth feeling dry and tacky. "Was that a mistake? Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean to kiss you?" he asked. I nodded. "Yes. Of course I meant to kiss you. Why else would I have done it?" he narrowed his eyes and shook his head, seemingly annoyed by my silly question. "It wasn't a mistake. Kissing you will never be a mistake… No, the only mistake I've made is allowing myself to kiss you knowing it won't happen again."

"Huh?"

_What's that supposed to mean?_

"W-Why won't it happen again?" my tongue stumbled over the words. "You enjoyed it."

I stole a glance to his crotch, now on full display thanks to his parted thighs. I shook my head and closed my eyes, feeling a wash of crimson spread over me.

"Yes, I did enjoy it. Very much so." He agreed. "That's not the issue here."

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" I snapped, slamming my hands onto my thighs, startling myself with the noise of it. I leaned forward slightly and scowled at him and his blank expression. "One minute you make me believe you're interested in me, and then the next minute you're holding me at arm's length… You're doing it again... You kissed me. I kissed you first before then you kissed. And now you're telling me it's not going to happen again?"

"You don't understand," he sighed, raking his hand across his face.

"You're right, I don't understand. I'm seriously confused over here!" I raised my voice. "Don't lead me on, Christian. If you don't care about me, then tell me. Don't give me money. Don't come to my rescue when I need help. Don't pay for my car repairs. Don't do any of it if you're just going to rebuke me at the next given opportunity."

I pushed out of the chair, thumping my feet into the floor. I stood over him for a second, until he rose. His breaths hardened. He hovered just inches from my face.

"I do care," he whispered, his eyes tracing my lips. "That's why this is so difficult."

"Do you like me?" I asked, regretting it moments later. I sound like I'm in middle school!

"Yes." His lips pursed. "I like you a lot. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You're here because Ms Lincoln's on business," I retorted.

"I am sure Mr Hunter could control things perfectly without me being here," he shook his head. He lifted his hands and placed them on my arms, gripping me tightly. "I'm here because of you. I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try. Ana, if I didn't like you, you would never see me again. I'm very adept at cutting people out of my life. Trust me."

I gulped as he said that to me. I do trust him when he says that. He oozes that no-nonsense attitude, everything always black and white with no grey areas.

"Why does this have to be difficult? Is it because you're my boss?"

He shook his head. His hands moved up to my shoulders.

"Has Cal said something to you?"

"Ana, please –"

"No. I have to know what's going on here. It's driving me crazy. You're driving me crazy!"

"I know the feeling," he whispered. "I want to tell you, I just don't know how. I've never had to have this discussion before."

"I need to know," I pleaded.

His fingers flexed, pressing hard into my coat. He held me for a second and then let his hands fall back to his sides. He eased back from me and turned, walking away. He rounded the desk and picked up one of the envelopes.

"That's for you," he said, dropping it onto the far corner of the long desk. I looked at it. My name is etched in black ink.

"What is it?"

"In there is a check for six months wages. I will personally support any future job applications you make, and I will make sure you receive an outstanding recommendation letter from us." His throat bobbed as he spoke. He didn't look at me. "I will inform the others. I will process the necessary paperwork. I'll make this as easy a transition for you as possible."

"Wait… you're firing me?" I gasped. I licked my lips hard. He shook his head.

"I'm giving you a choice. You can leave, I won't stop you. You can take the check right now and never have to step foot in this place again." He finally lifted his gaze. It's soft and sombre. "Which I guarantee is what you're going to want to do anyway," he sighed.

I observed him for a second, wondering what is going through his mind right now. He looks so conflicted and frustrated and sad.

"No one has bothered to give you a choice, find out whether you're comfortable with this. Elena and Caleb knew and they chose to keep this from you." He ground his teeth together. He placed his hands on the desk, and leaned forward, putting his weight onto them. "If I'd have known, I never would have approached you. I'm normally good at reading these situations but you… you throw everything off balance."

I fell back into my chair, an instinctive feeling inside me saying that I'll need to sit down for this.

"What's upstairs?" I muttered, biting down on my lip. "I know there are rooms for hire, but what happens up there?"

His jaw twitched. He blinked slowly, pushing further onto the palms of his hands.

"Weird stuff happens up there, doesn't it?" I continued. He bowed his head.

"That depends on what your definition of weird is," he mumbled. "But for someone like you? Yes, weird stuff does happen up there."

"_Someone like me?_"

"An outsider," he clarified. He arched his neck and found my eyes. His lips curled. "Do you know what BDSM stands for?"

My mouth fell open and a wheezy noise escaped through it. He pressed his lips into a hard line and continued.

"It stands for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. This club is open exclusively to members of the BDSM community, and is a place where they can meet likeminded individuals and practice their fetishes safely." He told me, letting his eyes wander as he explained. "It is by-invitation only, so those who do come here were invited either by Elena or myself. They are people we trust, some of whom we have known for years. We select the cliental to make sure everything remains discreet. They are all made to sign non-disclosure agreements as a precaution, just as we made you sign one."

"I haven't signed anything," I shook my head.

"You were given a contract, weren't you?" he heaved a sigh, already predicting my answer. I shook my head again. "_Elena_… Fuck. I'll have an NDA drawn up and delivered to your apartment as soon as. In the meantime, I need your word that will keep all of this to yourself. You could ruin a lot of lives if this information leaked."

"I promise," I nodded frantically. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I wouldn't ever…"

"Good," he breathed. "A place like this is bound with secrecy and trust. It can't function without either of them… There are six private rooms upstairs, all of them available for hire. The rooms are charged at hourly rates, the cost increased dependent on their specific needs and what equipment is used. We cater for all legal fetishes and will go above and beyond to help fulfil each member's fantasy. Or at least, that's what Elena promises in her brochures." He grimaced at the mention of this.

"She has brochures?" I rolled my eyes. He nodded. "Does she include coupons in it? All staff are half-price as long as you order in advance?"

"Staff are not allowed to engage in relations with members." He told me in a harsh, brusque tone.

"Abi told me what happens. They get asked into the rooms. You telling me all they do is sit and watch?"

"Yes, that is all they do," he nodded. "I don't know what Miss Bedward told you, but I can assure you right now that this is not a whore house. Any member of staff caught engaging with members will be dismissed with immediate effect. Staff are asked to observe and offer guidance, not participate."

"Offer guidance on what?" I asked after a long pause.

"When Elena opened her first club, she did it because people like us need somewhere safe to harness our skills. Pun not intended," he smirked for a second. He pulled himself upright and crossed his arms, his biceps flexing through his suit jacket. "Too many people jump head first into this lifestyle. They try to use the most complex apparatus and the most daring toys. That's how people get hurt, and that's how our reputation gets destroyed."

"You do this kind of stuff?"

"Yes," he said in such a matter-of-fact way. He said it freely and honestly.

"Do you enjoy hurting people or being hurt?"

"I'm a dominant," he tilted his head slightly. "I get pleasure from exerting my dominance on willing submissives. I enjoy being in control at all times, but everything is done with consent."

"And if someone says no?"

"No means no, there are no exceptions to this rule. Every couple chooses a safeword. It protects both parties. Once the safeword is used, all play stops. A dominant has to trust the submissive to use the safeword when they've had enough. And the submissive needs to trust that the dominant will stop when it's used."

"It must take a long time to build up that level of trust," I uttered.

"When you're both already heavily invested in this lifestyle, you'd be surprised how quickly things can progress. Haven't you seen them? The couples that are introduced at the start of the evening? They sit and talk for about an hour, and then they disappear upstairs?"

I thought for a moment and blinked slowly, recalling a couple doing exactly that earlier. They were musing over papers for a long time before one of them asked for a room.

"Why do you only have six rooms?" I asked.

"The more rooms we have, the more staff we need. We're trying to minimise the chances of any information getting out." He explained to me in a quiet voice. He stroked his hand across his chin. "Besides, it takes a lot of time to thoroughly clean each room after use. Not to mention dismantling apparatus."

"Do things get… reused?" I hesitated, wondering if I really want to know the answer to this question.

"Fixed apparatus is reusable – such as beds, chairs, cages. They are cleaned and sanitized after every use. The more intimate toys are replaced. They are used once and then disposed of." He pulled out the chair from behind the desk and dropped into it. "We ask that orders for equipment are made in advance, so we have enough time to prepare each room and to make sure we have everything already. Generic items such as clamps, spreaders, dildos and vibrators are always well stocked."

I gulped and licked my lips. Depraved thoughts ran through my mind… I've had dreams about him using toys on me… After one particularly vivid dream, I thought about investing in some myself!

"Have you used the rooms upstairs?" I wondered curiously.

_Please say no, please say no, please say no_…

"No," he shook his head.

_Oh thank god…_

"I have a playroom at home. I have no need to use the rooms here," he continued. "My association to this place has to remain private. No one can know that I have any shares in the business. I'm a silent partner for a reason. The last thing I need is for the world to find out about _this_ -" he waved his arms around. "I don't want anyone to find out that I do this."

"Are you ashamed?"

"I'm ashamed of the world we live in, Ana." He shook his head and grimaced. "We live in a world where everyone is judged based on personal preferences. Whether it's because of tattoos, piercings, the way we dress, sexual orientation – the world is full of judgmental bastards, all of them ready to name and shame individuals who are even remotely different. This lifestyle doesn't meet the expectations of my career. My professional reputation would be ruined in an instant."

"Businessmen are supposed to be much older than you. You're already different," I gave a small smile and then dropped my eyes to my hands.

"Being young is very different from being deviant," he arched his brow. "I hate discrimination of any sort. I don't do romance, but I don't judge those that do."

I nodded back to him. I didn't have anything to say in response to that. I looked around the room, from the rug to the hardwood floor, to the fear-inducing pictures on the walls. Christian didn't utter a word. He just sat there, watching me. I felt his eyes boring holes in my temples.

I knew I had to speak. I had to ask the question that has confused me for weeks. I took a deep breath before trying to formulate a coherent sentence.

"You're the reason I was hired," I stated, this much I know to be true. He already confirmed this. "But you thought I knew about this, didn't you? You thought I was into this kind of stuff."

"Yes," he nodded. "I would have never hired you if I'd have known you were oblivious to all of this."

"That's why you backed off," I put the pieces of the puzzle together. "As soon as you found out I wasn't like you, you dropped me, you avoided me like the plague… oh shit, were you only interested in me because you thought I'd be your next sex slave!?"

"Ana…" he sighed my name.

"Oh my god, you did, didn't you?" I shot up to my feet once again and stepped away from the desk. "You thought you could –"

"Stop!" he snapped, growling at me. "I didn't hire you because I wanted to fuck you. I hired you because I felt sorry for you."

My stomach dropped…

I don't know what's worse: the idea of being hired to be a glorified prostitute, or being hired because someone took pity on me and my pathetic life.

He rose from his chair and came towards me, closing the gap within seconds. He took my jaw between his hands, his thumbs quickly soothing over the corners of my mouth.

"I hired you because I saw how much you wanted this job. How much you needed it," he whispered. He bent his knees and brought himself to my level. "I saw how upset you were when Elena dismissed you. You could hardly look up at me as you ran out of the building… I followed you outside. You were crying and alone and you decided to walk home –"

"I didn't have enough money to get the bus," I told him the truth. He shook his head and pursed his lips again.

"I didn't want to approach you and offer you a ride, because I didn't want to scare you. I followed you in my car, just until you got home. I had to know you were safe." He leaned forward an inch. "When I saw you crying, something happened to me. I've never been affected by anything or anyone the way I did when I saw you that day… I have never overstepped the mark with employees. Before you, that is."

I ran my tongue across my lower lip.

"Nothing I have done was an attempt to seduce you into my bed," he assured me. "I gave you the money and paid for your car repairs because I wanted to – I wanted to make sure you were okay. I just didn't want to see you cry again," he dropped his head forward and pressed it to mine.

"Ms Lincoln said you got what you wanted when I was hired," I said quietly. "I don't understand what she meant…"

"I forced her to hire you. I said I would sell my shares if she didn't." He told me, gently rubbing his cool forehead against my own. "She assumed it was because I wanted you to be my submissive."

"And do you?" I looked up into his eyes. They're so close to mine, and so full of beauty.

"I don't know what I want anymore," he shook his head. "I just know that I can't keep away from you. I think about you all the time. I think about kissing you, having you over and over again… I've never felt like this before. I am hard every time I think of you."

His lips moved effortlessly as he spoke, each word enticing me more than the last. I wanted to press forward and steal a kiss like before. I am aching for him, but I need to see it for myself…

"Can you take me upstairs?" I leaned my head back. He frowned at me, his brows lowering around his eyes. "Please? I have to see it for myself."

He inhaled a long, slow breath and then removed his hands from my face. He made his way to the door and opened it, holding it for me. He remained a few paces behind me at all times, letting me take the reins. The staircase felt like my Everest when I finally started to climb it. It was strange and unnerving to grip the rail and drag myself up to the top floor. I know I shouldn't be doing this. Even though Christian has agreed to show me, it will piss Cal off if he finds out. He'll be furious. And so will Ms Lincoln.

_I could lose my job!_

The top floor is home to a womb like vestibule. It's circular, with no sharp edges or corners. There is a small bar in the middle of the room, with a series of velvet armchairs dotted around a Persian rug. There are no mirrors up here. Just seven dark wood doors – three on each side of the bar, and one behind it. There are no sconces on the walls, no means of light except for the overbearing chandelier above us. It looks like raindrops are trickling from the ceiling, its crystals disrupted by the crimson of the walls. I can't look at it for more than a few seconds. It looks like blood…

"All of the rooms are the same, they're just mirror images of each other," Christian told me as he approached my side. He stood patiently next to me. I twisted my head to look at him, finding his eyes straight ahead. He pointed to the door behind the bar. "That's the store room. It's where all of the equipment is kept."

"Okay," I nodded. I'm glad he didn't suggest giving me a tour of that room. He, instead, gestured to room number six, taking me over to it.

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and shoved the first one he came to into the lock. He pushed the door open and stood to one side. "Ladies first."

"I think you should go in first," I shook my head. I pulled on the belt around my waist, tightening it around myself.

He didn't kick up a fuss. He entered the room without hesitation, pausing patiently on the other side, waiting for me to join him.

The most heinous of things popped up on my head. I imagined torture chambers and phallic shaped instruments and devices that could have been used in Medieval England. I pictured emptiness and black everyone. I imagined a dungeon – disgusting, dirty and dank.

But what I found in room number six was the exact opposite. The first thing that struck me was the smell: freshly cut roses and sandalwood. It was welcoming and drew me into the room.

Like the hallway outside, the room is circular in shape, but is made up of a monochrome colour scheme. The signature Maîtrise red is artfully placed in the form of vases that hold the stark white roses omitting the wonderful scent. There are three large, decorative mirrors spaced around the wall, giving a 360 view of the room no matter where I stand. I see Christian in all of them. But, for once, he isn't the main focus of the room.

There is a large, four poster bed in the centre of the room. There are no sheets, pillows or comforters on it – just a wipe clean mattress in black. From each of the four posts is a red tie hanging down the side of the bed. It didn't take a genius to work out what they're for.

I scanned the room for anything crude, but nothing is on immediate show. There are several antique cabinets around the room, probably home to everything anyone could ever need. I wonder if there's a map provided in the brochures – a how-to guide to find everything…

"It looks so… normal…" I mumbled. "I thought it'd be darker than this."

"Elena designed everything. She wanted it to be feminine." He nodded. "Not many of us go for the sex dungeon look."

I stepped forward and turned, looking to the door side of the wall. There are four large racks hanging, with an array of different tools perched, ready for use. Some of them are made of wood, metal, leather… I recognise some of them… riding crops, whips, even a series of feathers.

I shook my head at them, feeling uncomfortable. I rounded the wall and approached one of the cabinets. I reached out and hesitated just shy of the handle. I looked into the mirror directly in front of me, staring into the reflection of Christian as he stepped closer. He hovered over my shoulder.

"You can look inside, if you want." He nodded to the cabinet. "You won't hurt yourself."

I slowly pulled on the small white handle, cautiously opening the drawer. But I immediately slammed it shut when I saw a giant, black, penis… _thing_!

"That's for –"

"I don't need to know what it's for!" I held my hand up to silence him. I shuddered, thinking about how much pain that thing must inflict.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Christian pleaded. I looked up and saw his sombre face in the mirror, just over my right shoulder. "I can't read you."

"I'm… confused." I dipped my chin. I lifted my hands to my face. "I didn't think this was happening."

"That's what we wanted. We wanted to make sure you were oblivious to it all."

"Then why are you telling me this now?" I spun on my heels to face him. "Why now?"

"Because I want you," he said with such force I felt winded. "I need you. I _can't_ stay away from you… and I can't have you unless you know what's going on here."

"I'm not like this," I shook my head. "You know that."

"I have to have you –"

He lunged and slipped his fingers around the back of my neck. He cupped the back of my head, holding me still while he worked my mouth. His lips sealed over mine, his tongue darting into my mouth at rapid speed, thrusting hard and fast. He stepped forward, pressing me against the cabinet. The handles dug into my body in all the right places, exciting soft groans from deep within my chest.

"I want to kiss every inch of your body," he panted through kisses. "I want to be buried deep inside you."

"Hmm…"

He kissed me with an eagerness I have never experienced before. I can feel his need for me… I can feel him hardening against my abdomen. His fingers started to massage my scalp.

"Tell me you feel the same…" he begged. His lips started to shift from mine, sucking their way down the length of my neck. "Please..."

"Yes…" I moaned.

"Can you walk in those heels?" he murmured into my ear before taking my lobe between his teeth.

"Huh?" I jerked my head back. I narrowed my eyes at him. "W-What?"

"Can you walk in those heels?" he repeated.

"Erm, yeah…" I glanced to my feet. My toes feel a tad on the sore side. "Not very far, though."

"Not a problem. We're not going far." He smirked and smacked another kiss to my mouth. "Come. Quickly."

Christian grabbed my hand and yanked me forward, pulling me out of the room and back into the hallway. He didn't bother to shut the door behind us; he gripped my hand hard and moved us swiftly towards the staircase. My hand only just made it onto the rail as we started to descend at lightning speed. I stumbled a little as we crashed back onto the ground floor.

"Wait here," he ordered, depositing me next to the bar.

I didn't have time to say anything in return. He turned and powered through into the office, disappearing for several minutes. I heard him rummaging around, moving things, dropping things, before he came storming back to me. His designer shoes struck heavily against the floor, his steps mimicking the pounding of my heart.

His eyes were heated and dark and intense… his broad, sculpted body excreted power and sex – a combination that teased my throbbing apex. I heaved as my eyes roamed the length of him, right down to his fingers.

"What's in the bag?" I asked tensely, looking at the navy holdall he's carrying.

"My gym clothes," he grunted. "I planned on going for a run after closing."

"Oh…" I gulped. "You still planning on doing that?"

"Oh I think you're all the exercise I'm going to need, baby."

I squeezed my thighs together.

He came to me and pushed his hand to the base of my spine, urging me forward again. He guided me to the staff room door, taking me straight to the exit, our steps undisturbed and in unison. I welcomed the crispy air against my flushed cheeks.

Christian growled, grabbing my hand, pulling me back to him as I started walking away from the door. He shoved me against the building, holding me with his hand flat to my stomach and his hips pushing into mine. He slowly teased his tongue against the seam of his mouth.

He stared me out. He didn't need to look at the keypad in order to enter in the code for the shutters. He didn't bother to look around before kissing me again and grinding his hips into me, making me feel even inch of his erection.

"Let's go," he suggested, tugging me away from the cool metal behind me. He took my hand in his again and slipped his fingers between the gaps of mine.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to ignore the way he's rolling his fingers against mine, constantly reminding me as his presence. He's taking me towards the exit of the lot, manoeuvring me past Wanda.

"My apartment," he grunted. "I only live ten minutes from here."

"What about my car?" I twisted my head back to Wanda.

"It's quicker to walk," he shook his head, continuing with his perfect stride. "It'll be safe here. It's a secure lot. I'll have my driver bring it to my apartment later."

"Your apartment?"

I came to an abrupt halt as the realisation washed over me like icy water dripping down my spine. The force of my falter caused me to yank him to a stop, too. He frowned, confused.

"Your apartment?"

"Yes," he nodded, still frowning. "We can't do what I want in public… unless you feel like spending the night inside a jail cell. Personally, I'd rather spend the night inside you."

"Oh…"

He took a step towards me and lifted his hand to my cheek, stroking my skin with both his and my fingers. "If you don't want to do this, you need to tell me."

"Your apartment is ten minutes from here?" I asked, looking off to the concrete jungle of skyscrapers nearby.

He nodded.

"Can we get there in five?" I panted.

I jumped forward and gripped his neck, yanking him to my mouth. He grinned and appeased my kiss for a second, before splitting us and continuing on his mission. I giggled as we picked up pace and turned off into the adjacent street at the back of the lot. My insides churned with excitement at the very thought of what's coming next.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Suki** \- I won't answer each of your points because I hope they will each be answered with upcoming chapters. But with regards to your comment about Ana not having respect for herself: I don't agree with you, unfortunately. But that's cool. I just hope you'll enjoy where I'm taking these characters. Thank you x

**Searth** – Thank you. Really glad you're enjoying it and looking forward to more. I'm sure Christian will want Ana to look for other jobs now things are getting intense for the two of them. Much Love x

**LA** – Thank you, my dear! Glad you're still enjoying it. Hope you like this one, too! Much Love x

**Ashley** – Oh yes, they are like animals right now. (Not that I'm complaining!) Thank you. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Glad you're excited for this chapter. I hope it lives up to expectations. :) I can't imagine Cal or Elena will be happy with what's to follow… Hope you like it! Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thank you! Looking forward to exploring both of them with you! :) Much Love x

**Laurie** – Thank you! Really glad you're enjoying it! :) Hope you like this one, my lovely! Much Love x

**Lily** – Sorry! Hope you like this one and it was (kinda) worth the wait. :) Much Love x

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**I'm back!**

**For those of you following my other story, 'The Good Will Come', you'll already know roughly why I've been absent for so long. For those of you who don't - basically, life's been a bit crappy lately. But I'm back and it's all cool.**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's been a long time coming... (absolutely NO pun intended, I promise!) Looking forward to hearing your thoughts - I'll be handing out free Lemonade at the end. ;)**

**Thank you for the continued support and happy reading!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

If you asked me how to get from Maîtrise to Christian's apartment, I wouldn't be able to give you directions. Admittedly, I'm unfamiliar with this part of the city, but we raced by in a complete blur that I didn't recognise anything. I think we took a left and then a right, somehow ending up down an alleyway, before moving straight for a throbbing glass spire – the Escala building. I recognised this building. Kate banged on about it for months, hoping her parents would stretch to buying her an apartment here and not near Pike Place. She was disappointed for all of five minutes, until they surprised her with a graduation trip to Barbados.

Christian yanked me through a side entrance and down into an underground parking lot. I lost my footing slightly, really struggling to keep up with his pace. But each time I stumbled, he steadied me. He gave me reassuring hand squeezes and glanced at me from over his shoulder.

The lot was full with a range of shiny cars, all different sizes but mostly black or variations of. We eased around a corner and dipped into a private elevator. The car was spacious but I felt claustrophobic as he moved to stand beside me. Lust radiated from him, pulsating all around us. As the doors closed, he swiped a card against a scanner and then punched in a quick concoction of numbers. The elevator throttled upwards.

His breaths were steady and even, but heavy. I'm surprised I could hear them past the pounding in my ears.

"Finally," he sighed with relief as the elevator jolted to a stop, the doors opening straight into his apartment. His _penthouse _apartment.

"Oh my god…"

I shook my head in disbelief as I stepped out behind Christian, following him into the foyer area. Everything, literally everything, is shiny, expensive and sleek. I couldn't stop my eyes from darting all over the place.

He tossed his keys onto a cabinet near the elevator and proceeded to undo his tie, sliding it from around his neck. I traced his footsteps, moving with him through the foyer and down into the main body of the apartment. On the right, there's a vast sitting area, home to three insanely large couches, a glass coffee table and some intricate, earthy wood sculptures. Just off to the side, there's an impressive bar, stocked with a range of crystal decanters and colourful liquors. I twisted and scoped the rest of the floor, looking to the dining area with no less than a banquet table and a piano nearby, with the lid propped open.

The Seattle skyline is by far the most domineering vision, visible from every angle, courtesy of the floor-to-ceiling windows scaling the whole length of the far wall. The lights from other buildings twinkled like stars across the horizon.

An all granite and dark wood kitchen was hiding past the dining area, through an arched walkway.

"Do you really live here?" I asked, whistling as I calculated the expensive of everything in my mind. Millions, if not billions of dollars' worth of stuff… There's a second floor, too! I admired the curved staircase that led up to a darkened landing.

"When I'm not at work, this is usually where I am." Christian nodded. I turned back towards him. He slipped off his jacket and hung it off the arm of the nearest couch to him. He started to roll up his sleeves.

"Looks like a show home," I laughed. "Makes my apartment look like a hobbit hole!"

"It's home," he shrugged, completely blasé over it. "Would you like a tour?"

"Maybe later?" I shook my head. My insides are squawking right now, aching for him. I shifted from left to right, trying to appease from of the longing between my thighs.

He nodded back at me. His throat bobbed and even though I'm at least ten feet from him, I can hear him gulping.

"Can I get you a drink?" he gestured to the bar, already moving to it.

"Yes, please," I nodded. I could definitely use a drink right about now. Maybe it'll help with my nerves… and shaking. My fingers are trembling.

"Take a seat," he pointed to the sitting area while he made about grabbing two wine glasses.

I drifted towards the first couch and sat down on the edge of the cushion. I fiddled with my coat, taking it off. I folded it over and pushed it behind me. Christian retrieved a bottle of white wine from a refrigerator under the bar top, and quickly poured a decent amount into each glass. He sauntered to me and placed one of the glasses into my hand. His fingers feathered over mine for a moment, sending shivers up my arm.

He chinked his glass to mine and took a sip. I gulped half of mine in one go. My reoccurring dream flashed into my mind… it's the same wine. I've never tasted it before, but it's familiar. It's crisp and smooth.

"Thank you," I smiled, lowering the glass. I held it between my palms. "It feels strange not being the one pouring the drinks."

He gave a small smile and nodded, taking another sip. He remained standing, his eyes trained on me. Those probing greys stirred something deep in the pit of my stomach. I finished my glass and then placed it on the coffee table, leaning forward to do so. He groaned a noise as I moved. I looked up at him through my lashes and saw his tongue darting across his lips, his gaze falling to my blouse. My top button popped open as I moved, revealing a hint of my chest.

"Come here…" he ordered me. I lifted slowly from the couch and stepped towards him, a stutter in my step. He shoved his glass down next to mine and lunged forward. His hands pushed around my sides and yanked me forward, into him. "So fucking beautiful…"

His mouth crushed mine, ardent and eager. His tongue was hard… so hard…

"You have no idea what you're doing to me right now," he grunted, urging his hips forward, grinding them against me.

"I can take a guess…" I breathed, arching my neck back as his lips moved down my neck, sucking hard at my jugular. I grabbed hold of his arms to steady myself. I used him for support while I kicked off my heels. "You're really tall…" I gasped, realising just how minute I am in comparison to him.

"And you're making me hard," he slammed another kiss to my mouth.

His hands dropped down the length of my spine and rested under my behind. He didn't grapple me or fondle. More unexpectedly, he yanked me off the floor. He dug his hands into my upper thighs and lifted me to the same level as him, bringing us eye to eye.

"I need you…" he moaned into my mouth. I grabbed the back of his neck for security, taking control of the kiss for a moment.

He carried me away from the seating area and blind walked across the length of the floor. My eyes flickered between his, that remained closed, and the rest of the apartment we're leaving behind. We moved through into a dark hallway –

"Whoa…" I gasped as he lowered me down on my back, positioning me in the centre of a bed.

I jerked my head up. We're in a bedroom… _his bedroom?_

"I can't wait to have you," he said, climbing onto the bed around me, on all fours. He switched on a lamp next the bed. The room is made up of dark colours, mostly blue and grey. _Masculine_…

He caged me under his weight, pressing his body into me. One hand caressed my cheek, while the other darted all over me… down my chest, following the trail of buttons on my shirt… smoothing the length of my skirt, before disappearing under the hem.

"Christian!" I gasped as he gripped my thigh, his finger digging into me. My body jerked, my spine bending.

"Yes, baby…" he breathed. "You're nervous, I can feel it…"

"Yes…"

"It's okay," he hushed. "I'm nervous too."

My eyes rolled into the back of my head. "I haven't… I haven't done this before…"

"Neither have I," he nuzzled into the side of my neck. "Neither have I…"

I gulped.

"S-Sex…" I blurted. "I haven't had sex before."

His devilish hand came to an abrupt stop. His lips faltered and he froze.

I waited for his reaction, wondering if he'd be mad at me for not telling him sooner. This is pretty big news, isn't it? I mean it isn't to me, but for him it might be –

"What?" he asked, lifting his head. His face hovered over mine. "You're a virgin?"

I nodded slowly. My cheeks grew hotter as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Christian, I'm…"

"It's okay," he shook his head. He raised much of his weight from me. His hand pulled out from under my skirt, leaving me suddenly feeling bereft. "It's okay."

His lips curled into a half-hearted smile and he pushed away from me. He twisted and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to me.

He sighed, heavily. He rubbed his face with his hands.

"Christian," I sat upright and shuffled forward.

"I'll drive you home," he said, affording me a glimpse of his pained expression. "I'll go back to the club. I'll drop your car off later."

"But I…" I shook my head and clumsily fell closer to him. I grabbed his shoulder to save me from falling head first off the bed.

"I understand, Ana. Really, it's fine." He shrugged. He wrapped his fingers around mine and prised my hand off his shoulder. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. "Don't worry about it."

"But I want to do this," I told him. "Please don't think I don't… I just, well, I thought you should know before we… I don't want you thinking I'm crap."

His shoulders rolled forward. "How? How are you still a virgin?"

I didn't say anything. After a moment, he twisted to face me. A look of pure confusion overwhelmed his face. "What have you been waiting for? Marriage? _The one?_"

"The right one, I guess," I shrugged.

"But guys must be throwing themselves at you? You can't be short of admirers," he exasperated.

"Not really," I shook my head. "I've never felt like I wanted to do this, until now… I know I'm ready. I want you…"

I eased forward and rubbed my nose against his, puckering my lips. I ran my tongue across the seam of his mouth, trying to coach him into another kiss. I need another kiss from him.

"Ana…" he sighed.

"I want this…"

"You have to be sure," he breathed, finally engaging with me. "You need to be sure. Don't do this for me…"

"I'm not, I promise." I said, confidently. "I really want this."

His hands massaged their way up my thighs, dragging my skirt up towards my hips. He pushed me back, to lie down again.

With my fingers still knotted at the back of his head, I dragged him down with me. I slipped my fingers around his neck and to the collar of his shirt. I attempted to unbutton him but he shooed my hand away, taking over.

"Let me…" he uttered. He teased each button open, until his shirt fall apart. His torso was well maintained and muscular, evidenced of many hours spent working out. He climbed off me and rose to his feet, standing between my knees. He dropped his shirt to the floor and then tackled his belt and zipper, yanking them both open.

I bit down on my lip at the sight of a trail of hair leading from his navel to the waistband of his underwear. _Oh my_ –

"I'll be back in a second," he told me, already leaving me and heading for the door.

"W-Where are you going?" I pushed up onto my elbows, my brows furrowing.

"I need to get some condoms," he said. "I'm assuming you're not on birth control?"

I shook my head and rolled my lips inward.

"I won't be long," he assured me, disappearing out through the hallway.

I blew out a long, shaky breath. This definitely wasn't on the cards for tonight… neither of us are prepared. Did I even remember to shave my legs this morning?

Yes, I did… _thank god!_

Why doesn't he keep condoms in his bedroom? Kate keeps a stash in the top drawer of her bedside table, and a spare box in the bathroom cabinet – just in case.

_Maybe he ran out of the ones he keeps in here?_ my subconscious thought as she threw herself over the armchair in the far corner of the room. I shook my head, trying not to think of that possibility.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, waiting for him to return. My toes skimmed his shirt on the floor.

Should I get undressed? Will he expect me to be naked when he comes back?

I toyed with my inner battle for a moment, before tearing at my blouse and skirt, shimmying them off my body and onto the floor. I was left sitting down, wearing just my underwear – a plain black bra and some nude panties. I tugged at my bra, trying to make my breasts look as appealing as possible.

"Having fun?" Christian asked. I yanked my head up and found him standing just inside the room, his head cocked to the side. "You undressed? I was looking forward to doing that."

"Oh…"

He slinked to me, his hands hanging by his sides. He threw a black and gold box onto the bed. His posture was broad and powerful, that of a lusting, hot-blooded male. His hands slipped under the hem of his boxers and he slowly tugged them down, exposing all of himself to me. His erection bounced heavily, large, veiny and throbbing. My breaths quickened.

He crawled to me again, prowling me like his prey. He moved slowly, purposefully. His fingers feathered my abdomen, cupping my breasts. He slid the straps of my bra down and then unhooked it at the back, removing it completely from me. I didn't see where he tossed it.

"Lie back," he urged. I did as he said, easing down against the mattress again.

He kissed just above my navel, moving further south until he reached my apex. I wriggled at the feel of him there.

"So receptive…" he observed quietly, to himself, as one would with a piece of artwork. His sucked my inner thighs, pumping the skin on either side my sex.

"Oh god…"

He rubbed himself across the length of my folds, his fingers teasing the hem of my panties. He teased me as he rolled them down and dragged them off my body. He threw them over my head. And then, his tongue lapped, flicking up and down… he pinned my thighs open with his shoulders, his hands keeping my hips down, stopping me from riding the tip of his tongue.

"Delicious…" he murmured.

He devoured me for a few minutes, bringing me to the boil several times, easing off each time, preventing me from reaching an orgasm.

He pulled himself up and lowered down onto me, aligning his hips to mine. He smothered my mouth… he tasted strange… he tasted of me.

He reached out and tore open the box he brought in with him, hastily grabbing a foil wrapper from inside. He held it between his teeth and ripped it open. Reaching between us, he expertly sheathed himself with the condom. I looked away for a moment, the act seeming too personal for me to watch.

"Hey…" his hand stroked my jaw, drawing my attention back to his eyes. "You sure about this?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

He rolled his hips into mine, repositioning himself. His erection stroked me, adjusting to find my opening. I lifted my hands to his biceps, curling my fingers around them. I flexed my fingers as he eased forward slightly.

"Is it going to hurt?" I asked anxiously, the butterflies in my stomach moving an a hundred miles an hour. His hard, darkened eyes held my gaze.

"At first," he nodded. He kissed me twice, small pecks. "It won't last long… I'll be as gentle as I can, baby."

He kissed me again and then snaked himself into me. Every inch of my body rose off the bed as he filled me, every muscle clenched at the pressure. My toes curled and hitched up the insides of his calves, gripping him.

"Ahh…"

"Shh…" he hushed, sucking air through his teeth. "Relax… relax…"

It seemed to take forever for me to adapt to the feel of him inside me. He was patient and didn't rush me, waiting instead for my face to stop contorting.

"Okay?" he rested his forehead to mine. I nodded. "I'm going to start moving now…"

He rocked forward gently, gradually driving in and out of me, edging deeper inside each time.

"That's it," he grunted.

"Christian…" I shamelessly met each of his thrusts. "Yes…"

"You're made for me," he dropped his head to my shoulder. He upped his pace, filling me quicker. "Fuck, you're so tight… perfect…"

I groaned and writhed as those spasms returned to my pelvis. The shudders came slowly at first, then all at once, shredding through my core.

"Oh god…" I arched my spine, pressing my breasts into him.

"Just go with it… come for me…" he forced his tongue into my mouth.

I dug my nails into his arms, his name escaping my chest.

I hitched my feet up the back of his thighs, nearing them to his buttocks. I pushed him deeper inside me, needing all of him… faster… harder… my mind switched off and my body took over, knowing exactly what I needed.

"Come for me, Ana," he growled. Sweat dripped off him, saturating me. He gave me everything.

I exploded around him, screams burning my throat as they emerged from my mouth. I shuddered uncontrollably, my insides tightening around him.

"Yes, baby…" he grunted. "That's it."

He drilled into me until he came, reaching my level of ecstasy. He trembled and made throaty noises that caused my stomach to tense and contract.

"Ana…" his head fell to my shoulder, his moist temple hugging mine. He panted hard, his chest gasping for air. His weight crushed me as he relaxed. "Thank you, baby…"

* * *

_So much noise_… a high-pitched screech of a sound barked at me. It was continuous and unforgiving. I buried my head into the pillow underneath me, throwing my arm up to cover my face.

My mind was still floating back to my body, really taking its sweet time. But when it finally returned, I lay confused, feeling something warm and solid firmly pressed against my back. Then it started to move, wriggling, and then attempting to climb over me.

"Sorry…"

I cranked my eyelids up and watched as an arm reached over me and stretched towards the bedside table ahead of me. I followed the hard, muscled lines of the forearm, right down to the long fingers knocking off the alarm clock that is flashing 6:35am.

"W-What…?" I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy.

I arched my neck back and was met with the very wonderful sight of a newly woken Christian Grey lying behind me, his torso still naked, with a spattering of chest hair on full display. His eyes were marked with light creases, but it didn't distract from his beauty. He still looked well rested.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. He ran his hand up my arm, rubbing its bareness under his warm palm. "I have to get up. I have work to do."

"Oh… okay…"

I lifted my head from the pillow and held onto the sheet clinging to my body. I was very aware in that moment of my nakedness, as well as Christian's. I rolled onto my back as he detached himself from me, from the position I suspect he's been in since we fell asleep.

"Okay," I nodded. I blinked hard to try and get rid of the burning settling in them. His room is bathed in light, the early morning sun reflecting off the highest buildings and shining straight through the wall-to-wall windows. "I'll get dressed then."

"No, stay where you are," Christian hushed me. He leaned forward and skimmed his hand over my stomach. "Stay in bed. Go back to sleep."

"But you're –" I tried to speak, but he silenced me with a kiss.

"Stay," he breathed onto my lips. My lips tingled as he touched them. They feel swollen from hours of passionate kissing.

It really did last for hours. His thirst and appetite was unyielding. We commandeered the middle of the bed, rocking, writhing like animals. His hands circled my wrists, slipping into my palms. He brought me to the edge of several earth-shattering climaxes. He used his fingers and tongue to devour me. He tugged, licked, nipped at my skin. When we were both spent, I remember him rolling off me, continuing to spread wet kisses across my chest. He yanked at the sheets and draped them over me. He eased me onto my side and then curled around me, his head resting on my shoulder and his hand pressing into my stomach, keeping me flush to him. It was heaven.

"Go back to sleep, baby," he muttered. He rubbed his nose against mine. I felt myself drifting back to sleep already, thanks to his soft, calm voice.

But as he moved away, I groaned. _The light_… I can't sleep when it's light outside. I'm not meant to be a nocturnal creature.

"Don't worry. I've got it," Christian told me. He reached back over me and flicked a light switch near the alarm clock. Within seconds, the sky disappeared. Blackout blinds lowered around each segment of window, soaking up the light and leaving the room in perfect darkness. "Better?"

"Much better…" I nodded, sleepily.

He lifted and secured the sheets around me, making sure I was sufficiently covered, and kissed my forehead.

"Sleep now," he ordered. "I'll be here if you need me."

"You're not leaving me?" I whispered, my eyes firmly shut.

"No, I'm not leaving you again," he promised.

* * *

I checked Christian's alarm clock as soon as I woke up, and I was surprised to see it was almost five-thirty. It's the latest I've slept in, even since becoming nocturnal thanks to Maîtrise. I smiled as I stretched out my limbs, feeling nothing but ease and content in them. I could have lied in his bed for days, it's that comfortable. Plus, it smells of him.

As I stood up, aching crept into my thighs, and there was a certain soreness in my pelvis. The memory of Christian's hips gyrating into mine caused my lips to roll inward, to save a wide grin exploding all over my face. I scouted the floor around his bed for my clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. However, at the foot of the bed, was a pair of his navy pyjama pants and a plain white t-shirt. I changed into them, securing the tie around the waist of the pants. His t-shirt drowned me, hanging off my petite frame.

I located a bathroom just off from the hallway leading into the bedroom, an expansive closet directly opposite. I went about my morning routine and splashed my face with water, to wake myself up, and then rinsed my mouth with some of the mint wash sitting on the counter. Very few products were on display – just a toothbrush, toothpaste, a shaving kit, and some aftershave. The room is made up of a pristine white suite and marble. It's hard not to see my reflection in everything, let alone the wall-length mirror hanging over the basin. It literally spans the whole length of this side of the room. I forced myself to look into the mirror. A weird, imaginative part of my brain wondered if I would look different after losing my virginity – _would it be noticeable?_ I wasn't really that shocked at what I saw, except maybe for the bird's nest currently lodged in my hair. I'm still the same bug eyed Ana Steele. But nothing is comparable to the change I feel inside me right this second. In lieu of sounding too cliché on the matter, I feel euphoric.

For the first time, I actually feel like a woman, not some over-grown high school student.

I headed out back through Christian's bedroom with a spring in my step, emerging into the bulk of his apartment. My toes danced across the cool marbled floor, taking me straight for the kitchen. The smell of coffee enticed me and brought a surge in my appetite, even though I can't stomach the stuff. As I rounded the slight corner into the kitchen, I saw Christian sitting at the counter. His laptop was open in front of him, stealing his attention.

"Shit!" he jumped as I came to his side and skimmed my hand up his arm. He dropped backwards against his seat and blew out a long breath, his eyes wide and shocked. "Fuck…"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," I apologised, retracting my hand.

"It's fine," he shook his head. "I didn't hear you get up. How long have you been awake?"

"Not long."

He paused for a second, silently observing me. "Did you sleep well?" he finally asked, swivelling slightly on his stool.

"Very well, thank you." I nodded. I rocked on my toes, my fingers knotting together in front of my stomach. "What happened to my clothes?"

"I had them washed. I figured you would want them cleaned before your shift tonight," he explained. He pulled out the stool beside him and gestured for me to sit down. "I laid those out for you this afternoon," he pointed to the t-shirt and pants. "Are you hungry?"

"Erm, yeah," I nodded clumsily, alarmed at his swift change of topic. "I haven't eaten since last night."

"Mrs Jones!" he called out, a hint of annoyance in his tone. His jaw clenched as he turned his head towards me. "What time did you have your last meal?"

"I don't know…" I shrugged, narrowing my eyes at him. He didn't pursue me any further. Instead, he reached across the countertop and grabbed one of the glasses sitting next to a bottle of Orange juice. He poured me a glass and then pushed it my way.

I twisted around on my stool as footsteps teetered behind me. I watched as a small, blonde haired woman came rushing into the kitchen, adjusting her apron on the way. She was wearing a white blouse and some navy slacks – an outfit not too dissimilar to the one Christian's currently sporting.

"Yes, sir?" she addressed Christian, stalking around the counter.

"Mrs Jones, can you fix Anastasia something to eat?" he said, without lifting his eyes to hers. I scrutinised him through the corner of my eye, tapping something into his computer.

"Of course, no problem at all," Mrs Jones smiled sweetly, turning her eye to me. She reached across the counter and held her hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia. What would you like to eat?"

"Ana," I corrected her as I shook her hand. I flummoxed for a moment, all possible meal options fleeing my brain in the very second. Her small lips pursed while she waited. "Umm, I really don't mind. I'm not fussy. Whatever's quick for you?"

"Okay…" she drawled, glancing around the kitchen. "How about an omelette? I can rustle one up in no time at all."

"That'd be great," I thanked her, grabbing my glass for a sip. I shifted uncomfortably, the silence nerve-wracking. I don't know who Mrs Jones is – _is she his cook or something?_ I wondered.

"Housekeeper," Christian whispered, leaning into my ear. I jumped, almost knocking my glass over. _How did he do that?_ "Mrs Jones makes the best omelettes this side of Europe."

She threw him a smile over her shoulder as she grabbed a frying pan and placed it on the stove, before rummaging in the refrigerator. "He only says that because it's all he eats. Omelettes, pancakes and subs… Give the man a sub and he's happy."

I snorted into my drink, most of it going straight up my nose. I spluttered and coughed, drenching the counter with the contents of my glass. Christian suppressed a laugh as he passed me a napkin. I glanced at him, noticing a slight smirk on his lips. The first positive reaction I've seen from him since first thing this morning. That thought alone unnerved me a little.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stealing back the napkin to wipe down the counter. I nodded and rubbed my palms against my thighs. "How are you feeling?" he asked me, a look of genuine concern engulfing his face.

"I feel sore," I admitted, dropping my voice to a whisper. "My hips hurt a little."

He nodded. "I suppose that's to be expected. I can get you some pain relief if you need some."

"I'll be fine," I shook my head. "It'll just take some getting used to."

"You're telling me," he mumbled under his breath.

Mrs Jones whipped up a three egg omelette in minutes, adding some Parmesan and tomatoes to it before dropping it in front of me. She told us to call for her if we need anything as she removed herself from the kitchen. Christian and I sat in silence for the longest time. I picked at my breakfast, while he stewed over a cup of coffee. He closed the lid on his laptop as soon as Mrs Jones had produced my breakfast.

"You don't have to stay with me while I eat," I told him, finally breaking the thick air. "I don't mind sitting here by myself."

"My mother would have a field day if I left you to eat alone," he shook his head, circling his finger around the rim of his cup. "She drilled table manners into both me and my siblings. Besides, there is nowhere else I'd rather be right now, than sitting here with you."

My shoulders dropped as those words tripped off his tongue, relief washing over me.

"I like being around you," he said casually, so matter-of-factly. "But in all seriousness, Ana, do you feel okay? You don't regret –"

"No, no regrets," I interrupted him, lowering my knife and fork. I twisted my head to him and smiled. "I don't regret any of it."

"Good," he blew out a long breath. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders rolling back and his expression softening. He lifted his hand to my cheek and pushed my hair behind my ear, allowing his fingers to linger and trace the length of my neck. Butterflies raced through my stomach. "Good… The last thing I wanted was for you to regret it."

"Not for a second," I said in a shaky breath. I ribbed my lower lip with my teeth for a moment. "So… what do we do now? I mean, how does this whole 'the morning after' thing work?"

Christian stared at me for what felt like an eternity, blank faced, until a small laugh escaped his mouth. He tried to disguise it with a cough, but he failed miserably. I imagined it was in that moment I turned a colour roughly the shade of a fire truck.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise," he straightened his torso and cocked his head to the side. "It's just… Well, I've never been with a virgin before. With regards to my lifestyle or in general."

"Never?"

He shook his head and let his hand slip away from me altogether.

"Not even when you first had…?"

"Not even then," he shook his head again. "And for the record, I don't do this 'morning after' thing. When I've brought women here, they don't hover. They know the score."

My eyes fell to my plate. I haven't eaten much, but suddenly I feel full. I pushed it away and grabbed my glass, knocking back the rest of my juice.

"Do you want me to leave now?" I asked him, refusing to lift my eyes to his. I half-prepared myself for it, placing my hands on the counter, ready to lower off my stool.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked. He placed his hand on my forearm, holding me still. Goosebumps ran up my arm when he touched me, all the hairs standing up on end.

I hesitated and then shook my head. I turned my chin towards him. He shifted and leaned into me, raising two palms to my jaw.

"I've never done this before, Ana. I've never been with a woman who doesn't actively practice in a sub-dom relationship." He told me, edging forward until our foreheads touched. "If I'd have known you were a virgin and completely oblivious to everything, I wouldn't have approached you. But that wouldn't stop me from wanting you… I like you a lot, Ana. You're all I've thought about since the night I came to the club, to give out everyone's pay packets. I've been obsessed with you since then."

"You're obsessed with me?" I repeated. He cracked a smile and nodded.

"And I certainly don't want you to leave," he added. "I do, however, want to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?" he smirked.

"I should think so," I giggled. His lips were as soft and perfect as I remembered; his tongue as daring and serpentine too. He sucked hard at my lower lip, drawing it out with a loud, wet noise.

"Would you like that tour of my apartment now?" he joked.

"Yes, please." I said, eagerly. "This place really is incredible, Christian… I figured you were rich but seriously, this must have cost you a fortune!"

"It was the first thing I bought when I started up my business," he helped me down off my stool, linking his fingers with mine. He gave them a squeeze and I smiled at the gesture, appreciating it more than he would ever know. "The second thing was my piano."

He led me out of the kitchen and back into the living area, straight past the staircase. We made the small step down and drifted towards the grand piano taking pride of place in the middle of the space. I gauged his reaction before touching it, waiting for him to nod his head. I twinkled two keys, the sound wonderful and echoing out of the lid.

"Have you always played?"

"Since I was a child," he nodded. "My mother taught me how to play. My adoptive mother."

"I Googled you," I admitted. "You were adopted when you were four, weren't you?"

"Yes."

I didn't want to press him for more. Not now.

He took me through each room on this floor, pointing out odd features to me. It struck me as I walked around that he could exist solely within the walls of this apartment. With a housekeeper to do his grocery shopping, he would never need to leave. He has a home office with a wall of screens – a necessity, apparently, if you're going to carry out video conferences. He has a library, of which I fell in love with at first sight. There's also a television room, a home gym… everything and more.

After seeing the lower floor, he took me upstairs. The landing was cushioned with a plush white carpet, mirroring the walls exactly. The hallway was long and slightly narrower than I was expecting. There were three or four black and white photographs lining the walls, each of a mysterious landscape – one of them most definitely the Yorkshire moors in England. Thoughts of Heathcliff burdened my mind.

Two dark wood doors sat on either side of the hallway, directly opposite each other. A third door sat at the very end of the hall.

"This is the guest bathroom –" he opened the door on the left. The bathroom is a smaller version of his private one downstairs. It's light and airy, smelling vaguely of lavender and lemongrass. He closed the door and then directed me across the hall. "And this is the guest bedroom."

The bedroom was half the size of his, but could easily house both mine and Kate's rooms. Taking inspiration from the hallway, everything was either white, off-white, or cream. Furniture was simple and well-spaced: a dressing table, a chaise lounge, and a king sized bed covered in white sheets, cushions and throws.

"You must really like white, huh?" I gave a small laugh as I entered the room. I hovered just inside the doorway.

I spun around. He remained in the hall.

"This is room is for my submissives," he told me in a low, monotone voice. His brow twitched. He didn't look comfortable with me being in here and, suddenly, neither did I. I wrapped my arms around myself. "I allow all of my submissives to decorate the room to their tastes."

"All of them? How many do you have?"

"None, at the moment. My last contract ended four months ago," he shifted his weight. "I enter into contracts with submissives. It's a mutual agreement, so we both know where we stand. Each contract is strictly monogamous and while the contract is still in place, the submissive will take over this room."

"You move them into your home?" I asked, feeling confused over the whole matter. He doesn't do relationships but he's willing to move his fuck buddies into his home!?

"They don't live here with me," he dismissed that thought instantly. "This is somewhere that they can treat as their own and use it to unwind, have some alone time. Trust me, with the intensity involved with what we do, privacy is needed at times."

"Do they stay the night?" I hated having to ask that question, but my mouth spouted out the words before I could stop myself.

"On occasion, yes," he nodded. "But only in this room. You're the first person to ever share my bed. You're the only person I've ever had vanilla with."

_Phew_… my subconscious dabbed her sweaty brow.

"_Vanilla?_"

"Plain, ordinary… normal stuff," he tried to explain. "Anything outside my playroom. Like having sex in my own bed. Just sex. No add-ons… You're my first."

"Must have been weird for you," I muttered under my breath, taking a second glance around the room. I wondered just how many women have been in here and redecorated it to their liking.

"Very," he held his hand out to me. I slipped my palm into his. "I hate blurring the boundaries. In anything I do – business or pleasure. I do my upmost to make sure those boundaries remain intact but you… you've just turned everything upside down."

"But you don't know me," I reminded him. He pulled the door to the bedroom shut as soon as I joined him in the hallway. "And I don't know anything about you. Except what I've read on Google and what you told me last night, about your lifestyle."

"I'd like to get to know you," he said. "I'd like to explore you some more."

I looked down the hallway, to the door at the end. I bit down on my lip.

"That's your playroom, isn't it?" I jerked my head in the direction of the room. He nodded once. "Can I see it?"

His throat bobbed. His tongue pushed out into his cheek and he inhaled a long breath. We stepped slowly towards the door, my insides twisting as we drew closer to it. He pulled a small, golden key from his pocket and pushed it into the lock.

He entered first, as he did last night with Room 6, and knocked on the lights. Everything was red… not Maîtrise red, more earthy and rich. _Oxblood_.

And unlike Room 6, everything was proudly on display. Chains, whips, riding crops, shackles, cages hanging from the ceiling. There are rails upon rails of equipment, instruments, god knows what!

He stepped aside and allowed me to walk around the room. I stumbled inside, anxiously easing my way around the rails, eventually making my way towards the four poster bed dominating much of the room. It has a red leather mattress with some satin sheets folded over at the foot of the bed.

_This is definitely intense_… I nodded my head.

"Say something," he prompted me. I looked over my shoulder, expecting him to be standing behind me, as he did last night. He was rooted by the door.

"This is what you enjoy?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Is this what you want from me?" I asked. I had to know the answer. "I don't do this. I'm not into this."

"I know," he nodded again. He exhaled a shallow breath. "Honestly? I don't know what I want from you. I can't switch off who I am, what I enjoy."

I gulped, hard.

"Do I want you to submit to me? Allow me to explore you like this? Yes. It's who I am." He thought aloud. He slowly made his way towards me, stopping just inches away. He didn't touch me. "I want to tie you up and make a claim on you. Be responsible for every orgasm you have… I want to take you over my knee and spank you. I want to show you what I can do. What I'm capable of doing to you."

I rocked on my heels, arching my neck to him.

"But I want to kiss you and treasure every inch of your body," he continued. "I want to worship at your feet, bathe you, spoil you, hold you while you sleep… You are a complete fucking stranger to me but I want these things with you."

"Why? I'm so…" I pursed my lips and shrugged. "I'm so ordinary. I'm not like you. I don't live in an apartment like this. I don't –"

"I know," he silenced me, pressing the pad of his thumb to my mouth. "I don't get it either."

His piercing eyes held my gaze, hardly blinking. He rolled his hips forward and bridged the gap between us, pulling my lips apart with his thumb. He dipped his head and placed his mouth over mine.

"What time do you start work tonight?" he breathed, spreading small kisses across my lips.

"Ten," I slinked my hands around the back of his neck. I took charge and stole the kiss from him, forcing my tongue into his mouth, ordering his to cavort with mine.

His hands caressed my spine, heading south, gripping my behind.

"Come to bed with me," he whispered, pleading in his voice. "I really need to fuck you before you leave for work."

"_Fuck _me?" I squeaked, breaking apart from him. I was stunned by the harshness of the word, but excited all the same.

He nodded and pecked another kiss to my lips. "I was gentle with you last night. But today, we fuck. Hard… I need you panting for me, baby. I need you to scream my name like you did last night."

"Panting?"

"Panting," he nodded. "I want you dripping with sweat… We'll fuck and then we'll take a shower. You'll have something to eat and then I'll drive you to work."

"You've really thought it through," I gasped.

His hands inched under my butt and in a swift movement, he had my legs wrapped around his waist, lifting me off the floor. His mouth crushed mine and he began carrying me out of the room.

"Sweeping me off my feet?" I giggled as his fingers pressed into my thighs, keeping me still. I gripped the back of his neck.

"Something like that," he smirked, knocking off the light with his elbow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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* * *

**Hello Everyone,**

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* * *

I mumbled yet another 'thank you' to Christian as he helped me into my coat. He held it up so I could shove my arms through the sleeves, and then he moved around to my front to button me up.

"Do you have everything?" he asked, his fingers so deft and quick. He tugged on my belt, jolting me forward, and smirked.

"I didn't bring anything with me," I said quietly, licking my lips.

He grabbed his jacket and keys from the cabinet next to the elevator. He's wearing dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt. It's so far removed from the business attire I've seen him in. But then, I've only ever seen him in a suit or naked and between my thighs – the latter of which is most definitely my favourite.

We spent the remainder of our day tangled in his bed sheets, in a perpetual state of breathlessness. He never tired and I didn't want it to stop. I loved the feeling of him on top of me, pressing his weight into me as he rocked his hips into mine. He only tore himself way when my stomach growled. He insisted that I eat, refusing to take no for an answer. I wasn't even hungry – well, not for food. After dinner, I sluggishly climbed into the shower with him. He caressed, shampooed, and cleansed my sweaty, post-coital frame. I could've melted into his arms right there and then. He was so attentive, working his fingers deep into my skin, massaging all the right places.

"Shall we?" Christian burst my bubble, bringing me crashing down to earth and the reality of leaving his apartment. I reluctantly nodded. I really don't want to go to work, not when I could call in sick and spend another night with him. That plan could never work, though. He's one of my bosses.

The elevator arrived within seconds of him pressing for it. I moved straight to the back of the car and leaned against the railing, gripping it on either side of my hips, to keep me upright. My legs are still weak from our last rendezvous.

Christian strolled in beside me, the doors sealing around us.

He didn't speak to me throughout our descent. When the elevator pinged and opened up to the basement garage, his hand snaked around my back, lingering at my lower curve. We stepped out and moved towards the long row of shiny, expensive cars on the left. Above each space, his name is proudly printed.

"Car fanatic, huh?" I joked, turning my chin towards him.

"No, not really," he replied. I giggled and then caught his expression. He wasn't kidding. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a black sports car. "Do you need to go home first? Collect anything before work?"

"No, I'm fine," I shook my head.

He opened up the passenger side. I hesitated.

"Something wrong?"

"Do you mind if we walk?" I asked, rocking gently on my heels. His brow furrowed. "I could do with some fresh air."

"Roll the window down," he shrugged. I didn't move. He lifted his wrist, checked his watch, and sighed. "You really want to walk? We're strapped for time as it is."

"Please?" I stressed. He huffed and closed the car door, shoving his keys back into his pocket. "Thank you."

I need to feel the sharp air across my cheeks. I've been flushed all day – every time he so much as looks at it I turn bright red.

"Are you cold?" Christian asked, draping his arm around my back again, tugging me into his side. "I can run in and bring the car around –"

"No, I'm fine with walking," I gave a curt smile, my voice more adamant this time.

We joined the street outside the Escala building and mingled with the other pedestrians. He remained at my side, his hand firmly pressed into my back, leading me around various obstacles.

"How long have you known Ms Lincoln?" I asked, desperate to prompt conversation. The silence was deafening.

"Since I was a kid. She's friends with my mother," he answered. "But we've been business partners for about eight years. She loaned me the money to start up GEH. Now I invest in her proposals."

"So you're friends, then?"

"Yes, we are," he nodded. He swerved the topic around before I could ask further questions. "How did you come to apply for Maitrise?"

"I saw an advert in the paper."

"No, I mean, why did you apply?" he corrected himself. "You majored in English Literature. You're a college graduate with a 4.0 GPA. Why are you working for an S&amp;M cocktail bar?"

"I didn't know it was an S&amp;M cocktail bar when I applied," I told him. He nodded in agreement, mumbling 'point taken'. "I've applied for hundreds of jobs but I haven't had a single interview. It's a bad time to be a graduate. For every job vacancy, there are dozens of applicants. I simply don't have enough experience for what I want to do."

"And you can't get experience until you get a job?" his brow arched. I nodded.

"I was eating away at my savings and I couldn't afford to be picky."

"What did you want to do?"

"I wanted to get into publishing. I always loved the idea of being an editor, getting to read manuscripts before anyone else. That's like heaven to me." I grinned. And then the disappointment hit me again. I tried to shake it off. "I just keep reminding myself that this isn't a permanent job. I'm still looking for other things."

He nodded and remained silent. I looked at him and he seemed to be deep in thought. He didn't care to share those thoughts with me.

We turned off into a side street and then crossed to the other side, heading south.

"What does the T stand for? In your name?" I asked. It had been bugging me all day. Everything ha on it. He yanked his head towards me and his throat bobbed.

"Trevelyan. My surname is Trevelyan Grey but I shortened it," he explained, his voice low and gruff. "I got pissed off with people spelling it wrong. It's much easier using it as a middle name… Your middle name is Rose."

"Erm, yeah, it is," I lowered my brows. "It was my grandmother's name."

"It's a nice name," he nodded. "I like Anastasia. Very sophisticated."

"I'll be sure to pass on the compliment to my mother," I snorted. He smiled back at me. "Christian's a nice name, too. It's very... strong."

"Well, I can't pass on your compliments, seeing as my birth mother is dead, but thank you all the same," he quipped.

I lost my footing and stumbled. He grabbed my hip, steadying me, concern spreading over his face.

"I'm sorry," I grumbled, my cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red. "I knew that… that you're adopted. I, um, I googled you. I'm sorry."

"Most people have," he agreed. "Did you find out anything interesting?"

I shook my head.

"Unexpected," he cocked his head to the side and pouted. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket and swiped the screen. He sighed under his breath.

After a few minutes, we emerged into the parking lot at the back of the club. It's full already. We passed the row of three spaces closest to the exit. Mine sits in the middle. The vacant space on the right is Christian's. The one on the left belongs to Ms Lincoln. There's a black car sitting in the space.

"After you," Christian yanked open the club door and allowed me to enter first. I stepped inside the staff room and stopped, turning to face him. He followed behind me but lingered next to the door. "Right, so –"

"You're not staying tonight?" I guessed from the look on his face. He shook his head.

"Elena's back."

I could hear her voice already, barking orders from inside the heart of the club.

Christian took a small step forward and approached me. He slipped his fingers between mine.

"Last night was incredible," he hummed. I let out a slow, shaky breath. "I hope we get to do it again soon."

"Me too."

"I'll call you," he nodded.

And, just like that, I felt like someone had popped the ever expanding balloon growing in the pit of my stomach.

"I've got a pretty hectic schedule at the moment. Lots of meetings, business dinners…"

My throat dried up. _I'll call you_… three words I didn't want to hear. I know what that really means. It means 'I had a good time but I have no intentions of ever seeing you again'. I've heard Kate use that line. And I've heard her whining when a guy has used it on her.

He eased forward and pecked a kiss to my cheek. He pulled away and pushed through the exit.

"Wait –" I called, racing out in his wake. He came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, turning sharply to face me. He gave me a look that said 'what?' "You'll call me?"

"Yes?"

"Do you mean that?" I shook my head. "I'll call you is a brush off. Are you really going to call me or did you just say it as a 'see you around' sort of thing?"

He stared at me for a second. Then he held out his hand to me.

"Come down here," he ordered.

I stepped down and placed my hand in his. He launched forward and forced me back against the building, holding my hands up above my head. His mouth crushed mine, his tongue ramming hard into me.

"I meant what I said," he growled between pressured kisses. "I always mean what I say. I don't like being called a liar."

"I-I…"

"I am in the middle of a serious merger and it's taking up a lot of time right now," he explained, hovering in my face. His eyes drifted between mine, my mouth and the base of my throat.

"It's Friday night. What about the weekend," I panted. "I've got work but you should be free…"

He shook his head and rejected my suggestion. "I'm flying to Aspen in the morning."

"Oh…"

"It's my brother's birthday," he continued. "We're all flying to Aspen to celebrate. I spent all morning trying to get out of it but my mother is insistent. Trust me, the last thing I want to be doing this weekend is hitting the slopes with my idiot of a brother… I'd rather be inside you, not playing happy families."

He smothered my mouth again. I groaned as he rolled his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall, preventing me from moving.

"I am flying back on Monday morning. I will call you and we will arrange to have dinner, yes?" he kept his voice low.

He peeled back and I nodded, gazing into his dark eyes. He slowly lowered my hands, but kept his fingers secured around my wrists. He rubbed his thumbs into my palms.

"If I have to –"

Christian abruptly tore himself from me, taking several steps back. He snapped his head to the door, which swung back on its hinges, hitting the wall with a loud crash.

Ms Lincoln stepped down onto the first step, her head jerking between me and Christian. She settled her sights on me, tilting her chin down. Her tall, slender body is completely drenched in black, only separated by her pale skin, platinum hair and stained lips.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" she barked, arching her brows at me. Her eyes were fixed and pinpoint. I shuddered and glanced to Christian for back up. He rocked forward on his toes. "You're late."

"I was, um, just…" I pointed to the door. She shook her head.

"Unless you want me to fire your ass, get inside now," she stepped aside, opening a narrow gap for me to manoeuvre through.

"Elena –" Christian seethed her name, demanding her attention. He approached the steps and placed his hand on the railing that separated me and her. "It's my fault. I saw Miss Steele on her way inside and I stopped her. We were talking."

"And what could you possibly need to talk to her about?"

"I wanted to know how she's finding things," he cocked his head and glanced to me for a moment. "I wanted to make sure Mr Hunter had taken her through the appropriate training. She's due for a mid-probation check."

"Caleb carries out the checks," she countered. "But that doesn't explain why she's late. By almost twenty five minutes. Am I really supposed to believe you have been out here talking for that long?"

Christian's mouth hardened. Her mouth curled into a sly smile.

"Better still, why was your car already in the lot when I got here?" she rolled her eyes to me.

_Fuck_…

"Erm…" I felt my lips shaking.

_Think, Ana. Think!_

"I was…"

"You were just coming back from the store, weren't you?" Christian turned to me and raised his brows. I searched his face and he blinked hard. "When I was coming into the lot, you were packing something into your car, right?"

"Y-Yes…" I nodded. "Yes, I was. There's a store just down the street."

"Right," Ms Lincoln dragged the word out, her tongue peeking out of her small mouth. "The one just down the street? _Scott's_, right? The small grocery store?"

"Yeah, that's the one," I nodded perhaps too enthusiastically.

She smirked at me. Christian closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Strange. The last time I was there it was called _Seattle Supplies_. I didn't realise they had changed it." She looked me up and down and turned on her heel, moving back into the club. "Get to work. The boxes aren't going to unpack themselves."

The door slammed shut behind her and I blew out a loud, harsh breath that fogged in front of me. I feel like I've just been punched.

_What I wouldn't give to punch her right now…_

"Sorry," I whispered. He didn't say anything. I looked up to him and he shook his head.

"Leave her to me," he said. "I'll sort it out."

"I –"

"Don't worry about it," he shook his head again and then pulled open the door. I entered behind him, taking my time to undo my coat and hang it onto the rack. He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed. "I'll call you."

He disappeared into the bar, leaving me cold and unsettled in the staff room. I only saw him once during the course of my shift. He came out of the office and collected a bottle of champagne from Cal, before returning to Ms Lincoln's cave. I know he must have left the club around one o'clock. Ms Lincoln emerged from her office alone and chose to sit down in one of the long booths, directly opposite from my spot at the bar. She stayed there for the rest of my shift, musing over several shots of vodka. She preyed on me, stalking my every movement.

* * *

I clambered into my apartment at just after seven-thirty, the sun shining and far too bright for my liking. I was ordered to stay late and take stock of everything in the store room, to make up for my tardiness at the start of my shift. Cal was kind enough to help me, refusing to go home and leave me alone with Ms Lincoln. I couldn't thank him enough.

I kicked off my shoes as I made my way to my bedroom. I shed my coat and dropped it onto my bed, along with my bag. Some items spilled out of it but I'm too exhausted to care. I'll clean it up tomorrow… or later, whatever. I bumped the door with my hip and proceeded to unbutton my blouse.

"Where the fuck have you been!?"

"Shit!"

My heart jumped into my throat and my knees weakened. I spun quickly to face the door. One very angry Kate Kavanagh barricaded the door frame, holding it on either side with a vice like grip.

"All day, Ana. I have been tearing my hair out with worry all day," she shrieked. "You could've been dead for all I knew!"

"I'm sorry," I dropped onto the edge of my bed. "I'm sorry. I should've called."

"Damn straight you should've called! I've left you at least a dozen messages." She scowled, her green eyes on the brink of tears. Her breaths hardened. "Were you too busy to even send a text?"

"I…" I wracked my brain for a possible answer to give her. I licked my lips frantically. "I, um, I went out for breakfast. With some people from work. Some work colleagues. From the club."

_Rambling_… she'll know I'm lying. I only ever ramble when I'm lying or when I'm uncomfortable. And right now, both are applicable.

"You went to breakfast?" she repeated, cocking her head to the side. Her lips pursed. "Was it all-day breakfast? The owners must be sick you, if you've been there all this time."

"Kate…" I sighed her name and gulped. "I was really tired and one of the girls suggested that I head back to her place and take a nap there… It was close to work and I didn't feel like driving home. I was really tired and I slept straight through. I barely woke up for my shift. I was almost a half hour late for work. That's why I'm late home now, because I was made to stay over to make up the time."

_Well, at least some of that was true_, my subconscious teased. Kate didn't look impressed. She stared me out, her eyes hardly blinking. I wondered whether I should continue and fill the empty silence. But she got in there first.

"I have been worried sick," she said much quieter this time, but her voice was still full of rage. "I called the hospital, José, Ray… no one had heard from you. I only knew you were okay when I went to the club last night."

"You went to the club?" I jerked my head back. "I didn't see you there."

"They wouldn't let me in. I'm not a member," she rolled her eyes. "But the guy on the door checked inside and said you were there… I could seriously throttle you right now."

"I know," I nodded. I pushed off the bed and shuffled over to her. I kept my eyes down. "And I am sorry. I just didn't think. Things progressed… _quickly_. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep."

Kate rocked on the spot and tutted. She inhaled a long breath and then relented. Her shoulders dropped forward and she threw her arms around me, yanking me into her chest.

"I promise I'll call in future," I whispered, pressing my hands into her back. There's so much I want to tell her. I want to tell her all about my wicked night with Mr Grey. But, for now, all I can do is hug her.

"I'm considering putting a tracking device on you," she joked, squeezing me harder. She laughed quietly. "God, the things running through my head… I actually considered for a moment that you'd hooked up with someone."

"_Me?_ Hook up with someone?" I snorted a laugh, shaking the idea off too enthusiastically. "You're crazy! As if I'd just hook up with some random guy and go back to his place."

"I know, it's totally not like you," Kate peeled away and held me at arm's length. "Almost like forgetting to call to say you're not coming home. Totally out of character."

My mouth opened but no words fell out of it. Kate smiled and retreated towards the door.

"You should get some sleep. You look exhausted," she held onto the handle, slowly pulling it to a close. "I'm working late this evening. I don't know if I'll be back before you leave for work."

I nodded and she closed the door. A few moments later, I heard the apartment door close.

I scrunched up my face and fell backwards onto my bed, throwing my arms over my eyes. I cursed myself. She knows. And it won't be long before she works out who I was with. She already knows that Christian has been to the club. She already knows that he picked me up and drove me home when my car broke down. She already knows that he is the mystery man who has blown me so hot and cold over the past few weeks that I'm creating my own eco-system!

_Oh God, what a mess! _

My mind sprinted back and forth, disturbed only by a series of vibrations. I sat up and looked around to find the culprit. My cell phone continued to buzz at me until I picked it up, a new message demanding my attention.

_Dream of me? C_

My stomach twisted. I rolled my lips inward and sent my reply.

_You said you would call. _

My phone fell silent and the screen turned to black. I was about to throw it onto my bedside table when it started buzzing again. Christian's name flashed at me with his incoming call.

I held the phone to my ear –

"Promises mean something to me, Ana. I never go back on my word," he said immediately, in a rushed tone. "I was just sending you a little something before you went to sleep."

"How did you know I wasn't already asleep?" I asked coyly.

"Because I know Elena made you stay late. I'm going to call her later to discuss it. She shouldn't have made you work over. It was my fault."

"Don't bother," I interrupted. "It's better if you stay out of it."

"And how do you come to that conclusion?"

I sighed and rubbed my forehead with my free hand. "Because I'm pretty sure you want to keep all of this between us, right? We don't want to raise suspicion."

He mirrored my sigh. "There is a way to get around this –"

"Can we talk about this some other time, please?" I cut him off. I don't know if I can handle this conversation right now. "I'm really tired and I've just had to put up with a very angry roommate. I just want to go to bed."

"I hope you sleep well," he said quietly.

"Thanks," I whispered. "I'm just tired. Can we talk later?"

"Of course. As long as you promise to think of me while you sleep?"

I could hear a smile in his voice and it soothed me.

"I'll try. Will you think of me when you're in Aspen?"

"You've been on my mind since I first met you," he hummed. "Goodnight, Ana."

"Good morning, Christian."

I ended the call and placed my phone on the table next to my bed. I didn't bother to strip off or change into my pyjamas. I just climbed under my sheets and curled up on my side.

* * *

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

"I'm coming!" I shouted as I made my way to the door. I tried to ignore the very unwelcome caller but the banging grew louder by the second.

I yanked the door open, discovering a courier standing on the other side. He gave me a strange, twisted look.

"Miss A Steele?" he asked, checking the name on the package he's holding. I nodded. "Can you sign here?"

He offered over a small tablet and stylus.

"I didn't order anything," I said, hesitating before taking the tablet from him. "Are you sure it's for this address?"

"Yup, Miss A Steele. Urgent delivery for this morning," he nodded.

He wasn't going to leave until I signed for it. I scribbled my name and took the package from him. If it's not for me, I'll just return it to sender.

I shut the door and checked the name and address. It's definitely for me. But I'm not expecting any deliveries, least of all from Apple. I moved over to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, using it to splice through the tape.

I opened the package and pulled a small white box sitting underneath the brown paper. _An iPhone._

"This can't be right…" I shook my head. I took out the box and opened it. A yellow post-it note was stuck to the front of the phone.

_You needed a new phone – one that could at least access the internet! Enjoy C x_

I placed the phone neatly back into its box and stomped through to my bedroom. I grabbed my cell phone and dialled his number. He answered almost instantly.

"I can get the internet on my phone," I grumbled at him. He laughed. "I don't need a new phone. Mine works perfectly well, thank you."

"You'll need to learn to accept my gifts, Ana. And you do need a new phone. I need you to have regular access to your emails."

"Why?"

"Because it's the quickest way to contact me. I can't always answer a call when I'm working." I heard footsteps on his end, followed by the closing of a door. "I went to the store this morning and set up the new phone for you. All of my contact details are on there. You just need to put your SIM card in it."

"I'm starting to feel like a charity case," I told him. I slowly walked back into the kitchen and hovered in front of the iPhone box. "And you don't need to buy me. I've already had sex with you."

"I know and it was amazing," he replied. "I'm not trying to buy you. And I don't see you as a charity case. Far from it… Look, call it a loan. I've loaned you a new cell phone. Indefinitely."

"That's not how a loan works," I shook my head.

"Just accept it, please?"

"You've already given me more than enough," I countered. _It is a very nice phone, though_… "You paid for my car repairs and you've bought me a brand new phone and–"

"Loaned you a brand new phone," he corrected. "Ana, please, just take it. I was upgrading my cell anyway and they offered me a deal if I bought a second phone. If you are so desperate to pay me back for this, then agree to have dinner with me. You can repay me with your company for an evening."

"Not really a fair swap -"

"Your company is priceless," he countered. "Or you could just send me explicit pictures of you in your underwear, courtesy of the high-quality camera in your new phone? I would appreciate that immensely."

"Well, that's not going to happen!" I snorted. He laughed back at me. I took another look at the phone. I was going to buy myself a new one anyway… I was just waiting a few weeks. "I suppose I can cope with the new phone, but this has to be it."

"Will you reconsider the pictures?"

"Nope," I giggled. "But I will accept your offer of dinner. It'd be nice to go on a date with you."

He didn't say anything for several moments. I wondered if the line had gone dead, until his hardened breath tickled my ear.

"I'm flying to Aspen soon. I'll be back on Monday morning," he informed me. "Let me know what evenings you'll be free next week and we'll fix a date."

_Fix a date, not go on a date_, my subconscious cackled, poking at my ribs. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

"I'll look forward to it," I whispered.

"Me too. I'll see you next week," his voice shifted, in parallel with the sound of another door closing on his side of the call. "I'll still be on my cell. Call me if you need anything."

"Okay. Goodbye, Christian."

He ended the call, disappearing to attend to whatever was stealing his focus.

I took a place at the kitchen counter. I examined the iPhone in more detail, a black hole in my stomach swirling with guilt. I shouldn't be accepting anything from him. I mean, he's a billionaire – how does it make me look? Like I'm just after money or something?

_God, there's more than one reason why all of this needs to stay strictly between us… _

I assembled my new phone, slipping my SIM into the back, and switched it on. I familiarised myself with the location of the important stuff – contacts, messages, Facebook – and then opened up the list of unread emails coming through to my account.

_How did he even get the password for my account!? _It's not as if I used 'password123' as my password… well, not since Kate hacked into my Facebook account in freshman year of college.

There is a long list of emails from companies I have sent applications to. I only read the first line of each – all rejection letters are the same. _'Thank you for your application, however –'_ It's not healthy for anyone to read the amount of rejection letters I've received over the past nine months. It's best to just ignore them and move onto the next. I deleted the lot, leaving me to with just two emails.

The first was from Christian.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Instructions.**

**Date: 03/03/2012 08:24:09**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

I hope the courier didn't wake you. But, in the event that he did, I'm sorry. (I also hope that you receiving this package doesn't evoke another 'I simply can't accept this' debate.)

This is my work email. It's the quickest way to contact me during office hours – or in general, if I'm honest. I never stop working. I hope you'll take full advantage of your new phone and permanent access to your emails. I want to hear from you. I want this to work. Whatever 'this' is.

As I told you, I'm spending this weekend in Aspen. I do, however, want to see you next week. We need to discuss our situation. I'm not a hearts and flowers sort of guy, but I'm willing to make adjustments if it means I can continue feeling the way I do right now. I will try to do vanilla. I'm not going to pressure you into anything, but I hope you will want to try a flavour I like, too.

I'm happy to answer any questions you have about my lifestyle. I want you to be well informed and comfortable with this – with who I am. Before we meet next, I would like you to do some research. I've attached some links for you to check out. There's nothing outrageous here, just some light play. I would like to explore this with you. Think about it, please?

Let me know when you're free and we can arrange something. I'm looking forward to learning more about you, Miss Steele.

Christian

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I thought about my reply before sending it. Rewording it at least a dozen times.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Instructions.**

**Date: 03/03/2012 10:59:24**

**To: Christian Grey**

It's just overwhelming to be the recipient of such extravagant gifts. Normal guys send flowers or a box of chocolates, not iPhones. Not that I've ever received flowers or chocolates. I don't need any of this, nor do I want it. Don't feel like you have to give me things. I'm not interested in your money. It has no value to me.

In saying that, thank you for everything. I do appreciate it, regardless of how guilty I feel.

Thank you for the links. I will look at them. I am worried about this, though. What happens if I don't want to do it? Is that it? I like to think I'm an open minded person about most things, but this daunts me. I don't want to get hurt. And if I do experiment with you, will I be your submissive? Can we still have 'vanilla'? Can we do normal things like go on dates, watch a movie together and hang out?

I hope we will be able to discuss everything properly. I want this to work, too. You're the first guy who I have ever been interested in like this – and I don't care if that makes me sound naïve and immature. It's the truth.

Enjoy Aspen with your family. I hope your brother has a great birthday. I'll see you when you get back.

Ana x

* * *

I wasn't expecting a reply from him. He wasn't kidding when he said it's the quickest way to contact him.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Instructions. Pt.2**

**Date: 03/03/2012 11:04:03**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

Your point on gifts has been noted. And to reiterate, none of it has/is an attempt to coerce you into anything.

We can discuss everything when we meet. We can spend the whole night talking, if that's what it takes. But I do have some answers to your questions already:

What happens if you don't want to do it? I'm hoping you will be open minded and want to experiment but it is your choice. I'm not going to tie you down and gag you. At least not without your permission first. If it helps I can show you the contract I have used with previous submissives. It'll show you the things I'm prepared to do and things I will never do. It might help settle your mind.

If you choose to experiment, will you become my submissive? Of sorts, yes. But not exclusively.

Can we still have vanilla and do 'normal things'? I enjoyed having vanilla sex with you. I hope we can have more vanilla sex. As for 'normal things', I'm not normal but I think even I can stretch to watching a movie with you.

I'm willing to try, Ana. That's all I can promise right now. I don't want to hurt you. I want to show you how pleasurable my lifestyle can be. It's about finding the line between pleasure and pain and exploiting it. We'll both have limits if we take things into the playroom, but we'd discuss these and make sure we both agree on them.

I'm new to all of this, too, remember.

Christian x

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I didn't reply. He'll be getting ready for his flight. I made a mental note to check the links later this evening. When I'm on my own.

I opened up the second message. It's sent from the Maitrise email account. It's the same one I sent my resume to.

The subject alone unnerved me.

* * *

**From: Maitrise**

**Subject: Restructure and Progression**

**Date: 03/02/2012 02:06:22**

**To: All Staff**

Dear Maitrise Employees,

This is the first quarterly newsletter.

For those of you who were present for the briefing this evening, this is confirmation of the restructuring Maitrise will be undergoing over the coming weeks. For those who were not present, you will need to see Caleb to catch up on this information.

As a result of our success over the past month, we are extending our opening times to accommodate the needs of our members. We will now be open from Wednesday evening to Monday morning, with Tuesdays allocated as stock check days. The new opening hours will be from 6pm to 6am. On Tuesdays, the club will be open from 9am to 6pm. All shifts will be worked on a rota system. This will be trialled for a minimum of four weeks, starting this Wednesday – March 7.

Caleb will distribute the rota and inform you of what days you will be working. If there are any problems, you will take these direct to Caleb. He will also be responsible for the booking of vacation leave. Any member of staff still in their probation period will be allocated four days' vacation. If successful post-probation period, this will be increased to the uniform 21 days per year.

I hope you are excited about the progress we are making.

Regards,

Ms E Lincoln

* * *

"Fuck…" I dropped my head into my hands.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Madlenita** –Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I hope you like this one, too. :) Looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Much Love x

**XYZ** – Wow, thank you so much! That's incredible of you to say. :) I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and looking forward to seeing how the story develops. I hope you like this update! Much Love x

**LA** – Thank you, my darling LA! Glad you liked the last update. I hope you enjoy this one! All is well on my side of the pond. I hope things are well for you! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I'm really glad that you're enjoying it! :) I think you're right. Ana has this idealised version of what she wants from a relationship. She's read the classic romances and seen Kate in various relationships. She's definitely influenced by that. But I hope she'll be open-minded and her curiosity will shine through! Hope you like this update! Much Love x

* * *

**Hello, my lovelies!**

**I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it. :)**

**Thank you (again!) for your continued support and love. I can happily report that my circumstances have improved!**

**See you soon for another update!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I raced to the club almost two hours before my shift was due to start. I had to find Cal and find out what the hell is going on, preferably before the other tenders start to arrive. They were all present for Ms Lincoln's announcement. They already know the score.

I need Cal to explain the email to me. I don't understand why the hours are changing. It's not as if there is a rush of people coming through the door every night. The majority of the time it's empty downstairs.

As I slipped in through the back door, I dropped my coat and bag in their usual space on the shelf and headed through to the bar. I didn't need to look far to find Cal.

"No, you listen to me. I need the rest of the order. Your driver fucked up, now you need to fix it -"

His voice echoed through the room, full of grit and frustration. He always has an undertone of annoyance in his voice but when he's pissed off, you can feel the venom in his words. It's unnerving. I followed the curve of the bar, slowly making my way to him. He's sitting on one of the stools, hunched over his laptop. I saw a complicated, multi-coloured spreadsheet on the screen.

He snapped his head to me and held up his hand, ordering me to wait until he's finished with his call. He huffed.

"I ordered ten cases. Are you even listening to me? I just fucking told you… No, you get someone down here with the rest of my order, or so help me God –" he silenced and then broke into a slight smirk. "Good. We're opening at eleven. Don't be late."

He threw his cell phone onto the bar top, sending it flying across the pile of paperwork to his right.

"I fucking hate delivery guys. Every week they fuck up the order," he rubbed his eyes and twisted to face me. "What is it, Steele?"

"I need to talk to you about the email –"

He cut me off before I could say anything else. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't bother complaining. I've heard it all already," he told me. "The others are just as unhappy. But there's nothing I can do. It's out of my hands."

I felt deflated in an instant.

"But I don't understand why," I persisted in vain. "It doesn't make sense."

"You're preaching to the converted. I don't get it either," he shrugged and slammed down the lid on his computer. He tucked it under his arm and rose from his stool, towering over me. "She didn't bother telling me in advance. The first I heard of it was when she came in here and gathered everyone together last night," his mouth twitched in the corner. "Apparently some members complained that the hours were too short. And in a bid to increase turnover, Lincoln's decided to not only increase the number of hours we're open, but the number of days too… It's a fucking mess. She dumped it on me and told me to organise everything."

I bit my tongue to save myself from cursing.

"And the cherry on top of this delicious looking turd?" he arched his heavy brow. "She's changed the start date from next Wednesday to tomorrow night. She contacted all members this afternoon and told them about the changes… Now I'm in shit creek trying to organise cover for tomorrow night's shift, because everyone else is off."

I didn't like the sound of where this conversation was heading.

"Abi, Will, Giovanna and PJ are off for the next week on vacation. It was pre-booked and in the diary, which means…" he cocked his head sympathetically. I nodded.

"It means I'm needed here."

"Sorry, Steele. I need you on rota. I've got upstairs covered but I need someone down here," he reached across the bar and grabbed a printed schedule from the top of his paperwork. My name is all over it, covering every day. "Tonight you'll work your normal eleven 'til three. I'll pay you for coming in early because I need you to unpack some boxes. Sunday and Monday, you need to be here at five in the evening, and you'll be on shift until six in the morning… But I might be able to let you go early, because on Tuesday I need you here at noon for deliveries… Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, 8pm 'til dawn."

"Wow…" my eyes widened. I gulped. "That's a lot of hours."

"It's also a lot of money," he nodded. "Just think of it that way… We should be fully staffed for next weekend. Unless something crops up, you can take it off as vacation. Saturday through Monday."

"That'll leave me with only one day of vacation left," I said, trying to hide the whine in my voice.

"You're almost at the end of your probation. Your entitled leave will increase then," he shrugged. "We'll need a one-to-one for your probation meeting. I'll let you know when I can do it."

"Thanks," I forced a weak smile. I leaned back into the bar, needing the support of it. My stomach started to flip out with worry.

_Go to work. Go home. Sleep. Repeat…_

Holy shit.

"Don't look so anxious," Cal placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You'll scare the customers. Go make a start on the boxes in the back. If we have time, I'll go over the cocktail menu with you. I'm getting real sick and tired of people sending back their orders because you've fucked it up."

I peeled myself off the bar and headed back into the staff room, with my trusty box opener in hand. Before making a start on the first pile, I checked my phone.

One new missed call. 9:04pm. Christian Grey.

"It's going to be a long week…" I huffed to myself.

* * *

_Monday 5 March_

Missed call. 11:39am. Christian Grey.

Text Message. 12:02pm: **I'm back from Aspen. Got in this morning. I need to see you. C x**

Text Message. 2:47pm: **Call me when you can. C x**

* * *

_Tuesday 6 March_

Text Message. 9:31am: **Are you free for dinner tonight? I have booked a table for seven. I will send my driver to collect you. C x**

Missed call. 1:58pm. Christian Grey.

Missed call. 3:23pm. Christian Grey.

Missed call. 4:44pm. Christian Grey.

Text Message. 6:32pm: **I cancelled the reservation. Christian.**

* * *

_Wednesday 7 March_

**Sorry about dinner last night. Can we reschedule? I'm really busy at the moment. Ana x**

**Calling you now. I need to hear your voice. I'm concerned. C x**

**Don't worry. Everything's fine. Just busy. I'll call you when I can. Ana x**

* * *

_Thursday 8 March_

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Missing in Action.**

**Date: 03/08/2012 08:22:07**

**From: Christian Grey**

What's going on, Ana?

Why aren't you answering any of my messages? Is there something wrong with your phone? If there is, just drop it into the Apple store. Tell them it's registered to my account. They will fix it for you.

Christian Grey

Very Worried CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**To: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Missing In Action**

**Date: 03/08/2012 15:41:57**

**From: Anastasia Steele**

My phone is fine. There's nothing wrong with it.

I am really sorry, Christian.

I'm free this weekend. Can we meet then?

Ana x

* * *

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Missing In Action**

**Date: 03/08/2012 15:48:02**

**From: Christian Grey**

Have I done something wrong?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

_Friday 9 March_

One unread voicemail. 11:54pm. Christian Grey.

_Okay, this is ridiculous now. I know you are at work now, but I really need you to contact me as soon as you listen to this message… I'm tearing my fucking hair out over here. What's wrong? Have I pissed you off somehow? Is it… is it the links I sent you? Did you look at them? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have sent you them before speaking to you about this… Fuck. Look, we can talk about it. We need to talk about it. I… If I don't hear from you by tomorrow afternoon, I won't message you again. I can take a hint. Goodbye, Ana._

* * *

When I woke up to Christian's voicemail message on Saturday afternoon, I sagged backwards onto my bed and sighed. This week has been... well, I can't even put it into words. I don't remember most of it. I just know that it's been manic.

And along with feeling like a zombie, I now have a deep, twisted ache in my stomach.

It's not that I haven't replied to him. There are a dozen messages in my sent folder, but nothing in comparison to his efforts. I have ignored him, to a degree. But he knows I have been busy with work. Ms Lincoln will have told him I was scheduled to be at the club, covering extra shifts. He knows I can't answer my phone at work, and that I do need to sleep every once in a while. So why has he been so OTT with contacting me? I mean, he's supposed to be busy with work himself…

"Time to face the music," I muttered to myself as I dialled Christian's number.

He answered immediately.

"Grey."

"Hi," I coughed, realising my voice is too low and sleepy. "Hi, it's Ana."

He didn't say anything. His end of the call was in complete silence, even his breaths disappearing for the longest time. I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I've only just listened to your message. I worked late last night. I've only just woken up."

"It's fine," he grunted, though I could tell by his tone that it is far from fine. "You have clearly had more pressing things to deal with."

"Christian –"

"I don't like being kept waiting," he interrupted me. "I would much rather be told upfront that I'm wasting my time, than be kept in limbo… Just tell me the truth, Ana."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I haven't ignored you on purpose. I swear. It's just… this week has been hell for me."

"Ditto," he snorted.

"I really like you, Christian," I reassured him. He inhaled a deep breath. It tickled my ear. "You're really pissed off, aren't you?"

"I need to see you," he pleaded. "I have to see you again. I'm going crazy."

"I'm free tonight. I'm not working this weekend because –"

"Eight o'clock. My apartment," he butted in. "I'll send my driver to pick you up at eight."

"Okay. It's a date."

He inhaled another deep breath.

"We can have dinner," he said.

"Do you want me to bring anything? Wine?" I suggested, though my selection would more than likely be something that tastes like bath water. I'm far from a connoisseur.

"No. Just…" he paused. "Don't let me down. I have to see you."

"I won't. Eight o'clock. I'll be ready and waiting."

He was gone before I could even finish my sentence.

* * *

I showered and washed my hair in a mad rush, conscious of the time. It's already fast approaching seven-thirty and I've only just got dressed. I threw on a pair of skinny jeans from the back of my closet, teaming it with a dark green sweater.

"Can I use your hairdryer?" I asked Kate, stepping out of my bedroom to find her lying on the couch. Her eyes are glued to the latest episode of _Pretty Little Liars_. She grunted a noise at me and pointed towards her bedroom door. "Thanks. I'll put it back when I've finished."

"Are you heading out somewhere?" she blurted through a mouthful of chips.

"Yeah, I'm going for dinner with some girls from the club. I'll call you when I'm on my way home."

"You better," she snorted. I nodded. She lifted herself up and peeked over the arm of the couch, to stare up at me. "Is that a new sweater? It looks really nice. And soft…"

I looked down and nodded. "I got it when we went shopping a few weeks ago… Don't worry, you can borrow it."

"Thank you," she grinned. I'm actually glad to be in the position where she wants to borrow _my_ clothes. Usually I have to raid her closet. "Hey, before you disappear, can you pass me my purse? It's in the kitchen."

"Sure," I agreed, pacing across the room to collect her black tote. I handed it to her and she immediately delved inside, pulling out her wallet. She opened it up and took out a small white card. "Here, take this –"

Kate handed me the card. I accepted it cautiously.

"What's this?" I shook my head. I turned the card over and read the front of it.

Dr. Jennifer Greene, MD

Obstetrician and Gynaecologist

300 15th Ave E, CNB2, Seattle, WA 98112

Tel: (206) 324-2104

Fax: (206) 324-3377

"It's better to be safe than sorry, right?" Kate gave me an empty look. "She's my doctor and she's brilliant… There are a lot of different types of contraception you can take, but she'll be able to advise you on which ones are best."

"Right," I nodded. My jaw clenched. _Ground, please swallow me up_…

"You should call her to make an appointment," she continued. "Not that you're in a rush for that sort of thing, what with you still being a virgin."

She smiled and then returned to her programme, laughing at exactly the right moment.

* * *

Christian's driver arrived at eight, pressing the buzzer not a second too early. Taylor held the car door open for me as I slipped in, and politely reminded me to fasten my seatbelt before driving away from the sidewalk.

I studied Taylor from the back seat and came to the conclusion that he's not just a driver. He has to be a security escort – no one in their right mind would have a buzz cut and a pressed suit if they weren't. He looks ex-military, like a much younger version of Ray.

He's extremely quiet, too. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, his hands never falling from the ten-to-two position.

"Taylor?" I leaned forward. The silence was killing me.

"Yes, Miss Steele?"

"How long have you known Christian?"

"I've worked for Mr Grey for approximately five years, ma'am." His dark blue eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror. I felt exposed for a second. "He's a good man."

I nodded.

"Have you seen him today?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"How is he? He was… he sounded angry earlier, when I called him."

"Mr Grey has had a tough week," he uttered in a non-descript sort of way. "I am sure you visiting him this evening will improve his mood."

I inhaled a slow breath and sat back into my seat, the car plunging into silence once more. I hope he's right. I don't like the thought of facing an angry Christian Grey.

* * *

I was left to take the elevator alone, Taylor dropping me off outside the front of the Escala building. He didn't say where he was going, but he seemed in a rush to get there. He handed me a swipe card and a piece of paper that had 19830618 written on it. I knew I had to use both in order to reach Christian's apartment.

The doors slid open and revealed the apartment to me, the lights bright and homely, the air filled with a delicious scent that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I stepped out onto the marbled floor and then, out of nowhere, Christian appeared. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He's wearing dark slacks with a white shirt, open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He lifted his chin a little and allowed his eyes to roam the length of my body. I flushed all over, grateful that only a fraction of my worth is on show.

"Hi," I nodded, moving over to him, stopping just a foot away.

"Hi," he shifted on the spot, reassessing his balance. That didn't seem like an all-too-happy hi.

I glanced around the apartment, the reality of it matching my memory completely. I have dreamt of this place every night since I came here a week ago. I have dreamt of the way he picked me up and carried me to his bedroom… I have dreamt of me wandering the halls, looking for him, finding him at the piano… making love on top of the piano –

"Mrs Jones is still preparing dinner," Christian snapped me from my thoughts. He gestured behind him, to the set of three large couches. "Sit. I'll get you a drink."

I took a seat on the first couch and proceeded to strip off my jacket and scarf, dropping them onto the cushion beside me. He watched me as he headed for the bar and took out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. He grabbed two glasses and joined me, sitting at my left side.

"Thank you," I smiled, accepting the generous measure of wine he poured into my glass. His fingers skimmed mine as he passed it to me, sending a shiver up my arm. "How are you?"

"Better now," he resigned, sitting back. He crossed his legs and turned to face me. His expression is blank and unreadable. "And you?"

"Good. I'm good," I licked my lips. His gaze fell to my mouth. I took a sip of my wine. "This is delicious."

He didn't reply to my comment.

"Are you mad at me?" I muttered quietly. I couldn't look at him. I focused on my glass. He inhaled a stiff breath.

"I could ask you that very same question," he answered in a blunt, cutting tone. "We had sex, I told you I would call you – which you took great exception to, might I add – and then you ignore me for the better part of a week. Did you have a change of heart?"

"No," I shook my head. I looked over to him and frowned. "I wasn't… I haven't done it on purpose. I just haven't had the time to –"

"Save me any bullshit, please," he begged, his eyes softening for a second. "If you have lost interest, you know where the door is. I don't need or want to be played around."

"I'm sorry," I reached across and grabbed his hand. "I've had a really busy week. I haven't had the time to do anything. I've been working non-stop and –"

"Working?" he repeated. He narrowed his eyes. I nodded to him. "You have been working all week?"

I nodded again.

"Have you taken a second job?" he asked.

I tilted my head, feeling confused. "No, I've been working at the club," I explained.

"All week? You can't have. The club is only open from Thursday to Monday." He leaned forward and placed his glass on the table, stealing back his hand from under mine.

It took a moment for the light bulb to trigger in my mind…

"You don't know?" I shook my head. He frowned and pursed his lips. "Ms Lincoln changed the opening hours. She sent an email to everyone last week…"

I turned and reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out my cell phone. I quickly located the email and handed my phone over to him.

"I didn't receive this," he grunted.

"She called Cal last Saturday and told him the new changes were to be rolled out immediately. He didn't have enough cover for the weekday shifts, so I had to work them," I enlightened to him. "Six 'til six… When I haven't been at work, I've been sleeping. Well, sort of."

Christian's jaw clenched. The screen on my phone blackened, but he continued to stare at it. He dropped his head, hanging it low.

"She had no right to change the hours," he snapped. He dropped my phone onto the couch and shook his head. "Why the fuck didn't she tell me first?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I thought you knew."

"I'm her partner," he continued. "I own sixty percent of that business. She needs my approval before she can even change a fucking cushion cover in that place! And she made you work those hours?"

"Cal said I needed to," I shook my head. He nodded back at me.

"Right. Excuse me," he quickly pushed off the couch. He raced down the hallway, disappearing from view within seconds.

"Wait, where are you going?" I sat forward, my stomach twisting.

"I'm going to sort this fucking mess out," he shouted.

I shoved my glass onto the coffee table and rushed after him, following the echoed sounds of his footsteps. I traced him into his home office – a large, clutter and colour free space.

"I need to find out what the fuck she thinks she's doing," he cursed. He pulled his desk phone forward and picked up the receiver, already starting to dial.

I reached his desk and pressed my fingers on the end call button. He gave me a sharp, stunned glare.

"What –"

"Please, don't call her," I shook my head.

"Ana, there's only one reason she'd do this and not tell me," he said through gritted teeth. "This is her fucked up attempt at keeping us apart. I know it is."

"She knows?" I gasped.

"She knows I like you," he shook his head. "She knew from the second I told her I wanted to employ you at the club. I told her I would leave you alone because you're not like us. After seeing us together in the parking lot, she said that I needed to back off from you. That you're not worth the effort."

_He didn't need to add in that last part_, my subconscious arched her brow, tutting to herself.

"I told her there was nothing going on, that I wouldn't be that fucking stupid," he brought his hand to his eyes. "I'm going to strangle her. She knows better than to involve herself in my private business. Now, remove your hand and go finish your wine. I'll be with you in a minute. This won't take long."

"No," I shook my head. "Please, don't call her now… I can't deal with this tonight."

"It's not you who needs to deal with this," he argued.

"Christian," I sighed his name softly and he backed down, falling silent. "I just… I need one night away from this. From her. From everything connected to that hellhole…"

My voice strengthened and I wasn't going to allow him to interrupt me.

"I have worked my ass off for her all week. I haven't stopped. My back hurts, my arms hurt, I have blisters all over my feet from wearing those ridiculous shoes!" I complained. I pulled my hands up to my head, holding my palms against my temples. "I haven't slept properly since I started working there. This week, I've hardly slept at all. I have been on edge, scared of being even a second late for a shift because I know she'll happily drag me into her office and read me the riot act if I am."

"Okay –"

"I haven't been able to eat more than a snack, because I have been running around like an idiot. The most conversation I've had all week consisted of my best friend handing me a business card for her OB-GYN, because she knows I'm seeing someone but I can't tell her anything about it, can I?" I felt myself running out of steam. "Do you think I wanted to brush you off the way I have? I have spent all week wondering why you have been hell-bent on seeing me, when you must know I'm stuck at work… Believe me, I'd much rather have spent the week in your bed, than spend it at that club. So I'll be damned if I've come all the way here to have you slope off to speak with her."

I stopped to take a much needed breath. I brushed my fingers back through my hair and let my hands fall down to my sides. His eyes were fixed on my now reddened face. After a few moments, he placed the receiver back into its holder.

"Fine. I'll speak to her tomorrow," he nodded. "I'll leave your name out of it."

"Do whatever you want, I don't intend on working there for much longer," I sighed. "I'm looking for another job and the second I find one, I'm handing in my notice. I can't stand that bitch –"

_Damn it… one step too far…_

He cracked a smile.

"She is a bitch," he nodded in agreement. "And she knows it. No one likes her."

"You do," I threw back at him. "You're friends with her, aren't you?"

He nodded. "My offer still stands. I will write you another check. You can have six months' salary upfront. You won't have to work another minute at the club."

"I can hold out until I find something," I shook my head.

"You said you're interested in publishing? I can make some calls," he shrugged. "I have contacts. I can get you a job by the end of the night. You could start on Monday."

I closed my eyes. I really don't want to get into this conversation. I don't want to have to tell him that I don't want his help, because his help got me in this situation in the first place. If he hadn't have intervened, I wouldn't be working at the club now.

_But you wouldn't have met him either_, my subconscious poked my ribs_. He wouldn't have bothered with you. He'd had picked up some other girl. Someone better_…

"No work talk, please," I mumbled. "Can we just start over?"

Christian moved from behind his desk and came towards me. He reached out and took my jaw between his palms, and tilted my chin up to him. He hovered in front of my face, pausing, before pressing his lips to mine.

"I spent one night with you," he whispered. "And I missed you. I don't pine after women… What are you doing to me?"

"I wasn't ignoring you," I breathed. "I really like you."

"Let's go eat," he ordered. "You haven't eaten properly. You'll faint if you don't eat something substantial."

* * *

Mrs Jones had prepared a three course feast for us, each dish tasting as good as it looked. My stomach swelled and my appetite increased with every delight she placed before me. We started with soup and freshly made bread, followed by salmon, and then tiramisu for dessert.

We sat adjacent to each other, him at the head of the dining table, and me on his left. Our places had been set with expensive, seemingly unused china. Several candles had been lit between us, and there was a vase of white and yellow roses. Everything looked so beautiful and, dare I say it, romantic. For a guy that doesn't do hearts and flowers, he accomplished at least one of the two tonight.

Our conversation, however, was somewhat lacking. At every attempt, he turned the topic back onto me. He kept me talking. He asked about my parents, Ray, why I chose to study English Literature in college, whether I enjoyed college, where I went on vacation last… He didn't give me a chance to ask about him, to learn more about him.

Until now. He lifted his glass and took a sip, my break in sentence affording me an opportunity to pounce.

"So how was Aspen?" I started. I pushed my empty wine glass aside, replacing it with water. "I've heard it's nice this time of year."

"It is," he nodded. "Have you been?"

"No, I haven't really travelled that much," I admitted to him. "I've never even left the country. Seattle, Savannah, Texas… that's my limit. I'd love to explore Europe, though. Paris, London, Rome… That's my dream."

He smiled and nodded to himself.

"Did your brother enjoy his birthday?" I asked.

"Yes. Well, at least, he appeared to enjoy it." He shrugged. "He didn't spend the weekend complaining, so I assume it was a success."

"How old is your brother?"

"Thirty-one."

"You have a sister, too?" I already know this from researching him. He nodded. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-two. She's a few months younger than you," he said. He paused and arched his brow. "Are you going to ask about my parents now? Or are you going to move onto friends and acquaintances?"

I tugged my lower lip into my mouth and smiled. "Sorry, I'm just curious. We've talked a lot about me and…"

"Continue," he nodded, raising his glass for another sip. "Be as curious as you want."

I stopped myself from pursuing the more personal questions. I'll save those for another time.

"What did you do in Aspen?"

"We skied. We drank. We sat around and attempted to have a civilised conversation," he smiled to himself. "My siblings are far from civilised. They argue. A lot."

"Are you close to your brother and sister?"

"I'm closer to my sister," he nodded. He didn't elaborate. "It was just the five of us this weekend. My grandparents decided to visit Toronto and catch up with some old friends. Otherwise, they would have joined us, too."

"Still, being able to spend the whole weekend with your family sounds nice," I smiled.

"I spent the weekend thinking about you," he said with such ease. I felt my cheeks burning.

"Y-You did?"

"I couldn't get you off my mind," he nodded. "I thought about jumping on the first plane back here. I thought about hiring someone to bring you to Aspen. The only thing getting me through the weekend was the prospect of seeing you when I returned."

I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his intense stare. There was sadness in his eyes.

"I thought you had changed your mind," he admitted quietly. "You were silent as soon as I sent those links to you. I thought I had scared you off."

"I didn't open the links," I confessed. In my periphery, I saw him jerk his head back, his eyes widening. "I didn't get around to checking them. I haven't been on my computer."

"Right," he sighed. I could feel the relief wash over him.

"And I think a part of me didn't want to open them," I continued. As long as we're being semi-open with each other… "I'm nervous… You said it's nothing bad, but –"

"It's normal to feel apprehensive," he agreed. "I sent you information about BDSM, from the point of view of someone in the community. They run a blog, detailing their experiences. I sent you the link to their first post, where they talk about why they are a submissive, why they enjoy being a submissive… I also sent over some info about light play. Stuff for beginners."

"BDSM for dummies?" I snorted.

"Something like that," he smirked back at me. "I understand why you're nervous. It's a big ask. I didn't understand any of this when I was first introduced to it. But I had a Domme who knew my limits. She was very… _protective._ I didn't trust anyone, least of all her. She helped me to see that fear is in the mind. Our minds are in control of everything, and it will stop you from trying out new things because it's human nature to be wary of the abnormal… Once you learn to control the mind, you can take on any challenge or obstacle."

"But by nature, as a dominant, you seek control over a submissive, right?" I speculated. He nodded.

"I enjoy being in control," he reminded me. "I want to be in control of your pleasure, be the only person responsible for it."

"But you also want to be in control of my pain," I interceded.

"It's not all about pain," he shook his head. He closed his eyes and paused for thought. "That is just one aspect of this lifestyle, yet it's the one thing everyone clings to… Have you ever been on a rollercoaster?"

I nodded. My brows furrowed in the middle. I'm not sure what that has to do with this.

"Imagine you are on the world's fastest, tallest ride. You have been strapped in tight, so there is no chance of you falling out. You're alone, waiting for it to start… Your heart is starting to race. You have butterflies in your stomach. You start to shake, feeling anxious. You don't know what to expect. You don't know when it's going to start moving, you don't know what happens after the car leaves the holding bay. But you don't need to, because there's someone else responsible for that. They're in charge… You want them to be in charge. They know what they're doing. You can trust them… The car starts to move forward and all you can do is sit back and enjoy it. The speed, the thrill, the freedom… it's all part of the ride. That buzz you get when you're on the descent, the whole world on view, all of the doubts and annoyances of your life gone. It doesn't matter in that moment. That's what this lifestyle is about. It's about letting yourself be free."

I gulped. I blinked. _Wow_…

Christian pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He excused himself for a minute, returning to the table with a large envelope. He placed it in front of me, his arm brushing against mine as he leaned over. I glanced down at the envelope.

"Inside it is a copy of the non-disclosure agreement and contract I give to my submissives," he explained, sitting back down. He dropped his elbows onto the table and hunched his shoulders forward. "I have rules. Expectations. The contract outlines what I expect of my submissives – what I will and won't do with them, what I need from them, and what rewards or punishments they will receive, depending on their conformity to the rules."

I placed my fingers onto the front of the envelope. I hesitated before opening it and pulling out the stapled documents inside. The NDA is on top. His name and details are printed at the head of the page. Underneath, there is an empty space where the submissive's details are expected.

"Why are you giving me this?" I asked.

"I think you should read them. The contract, mainly," he clarified. "It will give you an idea of what I do. What I like."

I set the NDA aside and glanced over the first few pages of the contract. It's mind-boggling.

"Must be difficult finding someone willing to meet all of your demands?" I whistled. The contract goes on for pages… meticulous on every point.

"It's negotiable," he told me. "Submissives can raise any issues they have. We discuss the problems and come to a mutual agreement. The contract is to protect both parties."

"Do all relationships have contracts?"

He shook his head. "Usually it's a verbal agreement. My life revolves around contracts in some degree or another. This is what I'm comfortable with."

"Would we need a contract?"

"Yes," he nodded. He studied my profile and frowned. "Tell me what's bothering you?"

"It's a lot to take in," I pursed my lips and dropped the contract onto the table again. I sighed. "I don't know… I'm confused."

"I would never push you beyond your limits," he assured me. "I will test your limits, but I would never make you do something you categorically do not want to do."

"You hardly know me. How can you possibly know my limits when you don't even know what my favourite colour is? Or what my favourite dessert is?" I shook my head.

"That's why we need to talk about this before we start to play," he shrugged. "I'm adept at reading people, Ana. It's an essential part of my work. I need to know what my competitors are thinking. I need to be able to read their emotions, their body language…"

He reached across the table and took my hand into his. He cupped it gently, lifting it to his mouth. He began pressing kisses across my knuckles.

"I can read you already," he whispered. "But we will learn more about each other as we go along. I will learn what you like, what your body likes… And if I have to guess right now, I would say your favourite dessert is apple pie with vanilla icecream. And you don't have a favourite colour."

"Lucky guess," I muttered. He smiled back at me. "I like pastel colours. Pink, blue, purple… Anything light and soft, nothing garish."

"I enjoyed last week very much," he pressed a kiss to the pad of my thumb. "I don't want you to think otherwise. That was my first experience of vanilla and I enjoyed it. But this is who I am… and I'd like to share this part of me with you."

He turned my hand over and slipped his fingers between the gaps of my own. He rubbed his fingers against mine, maintaining my gaze with his dark, deep grey eyes.

"Take a chance…" he whispered. "You're curious, I can sense it."

"I am," I nodded.

"Why don't we move this to the couch?" he suggested. "We can look at the links I sent you. We can read the contract together. I'll grab another bottle of wine and we can talk about this properly."

"Am I going to need the wine in order to handle this?" I wondered.

He shook his head. "I'm not trying to get you drunk. I prefer wine. If you'd rather have juice, I will fetch you a glass from the kitchen."

I nodded. I need to keep a clear head. I need to digest what's happening.

"If I say no to all of this, is that it?" I blurted as he turned his back, heading for the kitchen. He stopped in the middle of the floor.

"I'm hoping you'll say yes," he replied, slowly twisting to look at me.

"But if I can't commit to this, if I only want vanilla, will this be over?"

"I hope not," he sighed. "I feel different when I'm with you. I've never felt like this before. I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you, Ana… I just hope you'll meet me halfway and accept me for what I am."

A hard lump formed in my throat.

"Now, would you like orange or apple? I have both." He pointed into the kitchen, straightening his shoulders once more.

He busied himself with making my drink, leaving me to my own devices. I picked up the contract and took it over to the seating area at the far end of the apartment.

I am curious. I want to explore. I want to understand him. I want to be his.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**SuzB** – Thank you! I'm really glad you're still enjoying this story and looking forward to seeing how things will develop. :) I hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

* * *

**Happy Monday, Everyone! (Still Monday here for at least another fifteen minutes…)**

**I hope you're all well. Thank you for the response on the last chapter! I really appreciate you reading this story and sending your comments my way. It always means so much. :)**

**This chapter is longer than usual, to make up for the delay. I hope you like it!**

**Always working on more!**

**See you soon. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I perched on the edge of the couch and placed the contract on the coffee table, faced down. I let my fingers reside on the back page for a moment, a certain heat radiating from it. My mind bounced with all kinds of thoughts and ideas.

I shook my head and took a slow, deep breath. _There is room for compromise_, I reminded myself. He said that submissives can raise concerns and each point will be agreed on - or changed, if needs be. If there's room for manoeuvre, it can't be that bad, surely? He doesn't look like a lunatic or a serial killer. He looks normal…

I could hear my mother's voice echoing from the back of my mind, chastising me for overthinking everything. She would always grow frustrated with me, annoyed at how I could never do anything without thinking of all the possible consequences first. She used to say that one day it would hold me back from the adventures fate had lined up for me. She said I needed to just let go and enjoy living in the moment. She certainly wouldn't have had this in mind but maybe she was right… There's a first time for everything.

"One glass of orange juice," Christian appeared suddenly at my side, snapping me out of my thoughts. He gave me a quick smile and slid the glass down onto the coffee table. "Are you still hungry? I can grab something if –"

"I'm fine, thank you," I shook my head and snorted a laugh. "I think I've eaten enough to feed the five thousand. I've never seen so much food in my life!"

"Mrs Jones always keeps the kitchen well-stocked," he nodded.

"Please thank her for me? It was delicious."

He smiled and dropped down onto the couch, sitting at my side. He leaned back against the cushions and crossed his legs, placing the foot of his wine glass on his knee. His arm stretched out behind me. The heady mix of his aftershave and body wash teased my senses. I ribbed my lower lip between my teeth and drummed my fingers on my thigh. I wanted to bring my feet up underneath me, but –

"Make yourself comfortable," he murmured. I snapped my head towards him. He smiled. "I want you to feel comfortable here. At ease."

My shoulders dropped forward and I smiled. I pulled my feet up and sat on them, momentarily leaning into his side.

"So where would you like to start?" he asked, lifting a hand to my cheek. He pulled a tendril of hair back behind my ear.

"Um, where do you think we should start?" I shrugged, my skin heating up and growing flush. "I'm the novice here. You're the S&amp;M expert."

He resisted a laugh. "I've been practicing for a long time."

"How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was fifteen," he answered, casually, completely off the cuff. My eyes widened and I jerked my head back. "I was a submissive for a few years, and then we switched."

"Switched?"

"My domme became my submissive," he clarified. "She trained me. She's a highly experienced domme. She's been in this lifestyle longer than I've been alive."

"Wow…" I blew out my cheeks. "So she's older than you?"

"Significantly," he nodded. "But it was what I needed back then. I was a mess and she helped to keep me on the straight and narrow. I credit my success to her."

I pursed my lips. There's a strange sort of glistening in his eyes as he thinks about her. It's unreadable.

"Do you still see her, speak to her?" I asked. He nodded again but didn't elaborate or give any more details.

He lifted up from the couch and turned, abruptly leaning over the arm. He came back up with a silver laptop. Placing it on his thighs, he snapped open the lid and brought the screen to life. The background image was of a tall, spire building, with a steel sign in front of it, reading _Grey Enterprises Holdings_.

"Bringing work home with you?" I laughed quietly, nodding my head to the screen. He frowned at me and searched my face.

"This is my personal computer," he shook his head, dismayed.

"Oh, right," I held my breath.

"Why, don't you approve of my wallpaper?" he arched his brow. "Did you expect something darker, sexual?"

I gulped. "I don't know… just something more… _personal?_"

"My work is my life," he answered. "Right. Maybe we should begin with the links I sent you?"

He opened up his emails and quickly located the message he sent to me. There are three links waiting to be opened. He hovered the mouse over the first, but I stopped him before he could select it.

"I'm not… You're not going to show me anything that's, you know…" I tilted my head.

"Nothing sinister," he reminded me for what must be the hundredth time. He shook his head and tried his best to soften his expression. "I'm not going to show you any live play. I don't watch that sort of thing, so I wouldn't expect you to."

"You don't watch porn?"

He shook his head and returned his eyes to the computer. I inhaled a long, slow breath and nodded, giving him the okay to open the first link.

A black webpage loaded on the screen, with a soft melody developing from behind the abyss. It's a single violin and sounds so familiar. At first, I couldn't quite place where I'd heard it before, not until the word 'Maîtrise' appeared in the centre of the page. A box popped up underneath it, requesting a username and password in order to continue.

"I didn't know the club had a website," I told him as he typed in his details. I'd searched for the club on Google but all that came up was the advertisement from the paper and a red point on the map of Seattle.

"Each of the clubs have a website," he explained, his gaze hardly leaving the screen.

"How many clubs are there?"

"Worldwide? Millions," he nodded once. "But we only have three. New York, Chicago, and Seattle. New York was the first to open. _Esclavage_."

"Part of the Esclava chain?" I arched my brow at him, remembering the wording from the advert. He nodded. "It's French, right?"

"Both Elena and I speak French. Esclavage means bondage," he said. "The club in Chicago opened two years later. It's called _Châtiment_. Punishment."

"Hm, I'm detecting a theme here," I narrowed my eyes and chuckled under my breath. He returned my laugh. "What does _Maîtrise_ mean then? I don't understand French."

"Mastery," his lips curled around the word like a vine. He dropped his gaze and I detected a slight blush in his cheeks. "I chose the name. Elena insisted that I choose it. I normally don't get involved in that sort of thing. I leave everything to her. It's the profit that matters to me."

I had no doubts that the reason she asked for his input was to bring him closer to the franchise – closer to her. Even from just the few times that I've seen them together, it's obvious that she demands his attention. She craves it and I don't know why.

"You own sixty percent of the chain, it's only right you have a say," I shrugged, reluctant to side with Ms Lincoln.

"When she gave me the money for GEH, I didn't ask for her input when I decided on a name," he countered with a frown. "My percentage of the chain is strictly collateral. I'm protecting my investment."

"I sensed as much," I nodded. He doesn't strike me as the type to give anything away for free. "Do you trust her to protect your investment?"

He sighed and blinked slowly. "Elena is a good friend of mine, regardless of the shit she tries to pull. But I don't trust anyone where money's concerned. I've been in this industry long enough to know that you only ever look after yourself. Given half a chance, she'd screw me over to make a profit and she openly admits that."

"Some friend," I snorted, shaking my head.

He didn't rise to my comment. He jerked his head back to the screen, where the homepage is now in full view.

"All members are given a username and default password when they complete their registration forms," he began to explain, dropping our previous conversation in an instant. His expression returned to its stony, preferred state. "Without a username, no one can gain access to the website, and it can't be searched for online. We've taken every step to hide it from the public eye… That's why I included my username and password in the email, so you could access the site."

"Do staff members have accounts?"

"No. If a member of staff wants to access the site, they need to apply for an account through Mr Hunter."

I frowned, my brows lowering around my eyes. _Why doesn't he ever call him Cal?_

Christian navigated the homepage and brought up a video, enlarging it so it covered the whole width of the screen. He pressed play and turned up the volume.

The video opened with a series of black and white photographs from inside the club, and one of the exterior. They are artsy images, tasteful and mysterious. There's only one focal point in each image, with everything else blurred. Behind the pictures is the same melody as before – the club's signature sound. It starts slow, just a tease, and then builds into waves of crescendo. It's eerie and alluring all at the same time. My nerves are heightened as the images move into Ms Lincoln's office, before developing into coloured film.

Turning slowly to face the camera, Ms Lincoln appears from behind her long, mahogany desk. She gave a wide, fake grin, and placed her hands down on the desk top.

"Welcome to _Maîtrise_," she greeted in a soft tone, so very far removed from the way she greeted me on the day of my interview. Her piercing stare never faltered. "_Maîtrise_ is the newest club in the Esclava chain, and the first to open in Seattle. I am personally so excited to bring this club to my home. To share a piece of myself with you… Why don't we take a tour?"

She rose from behind the desk and smoothed down her body-tight dress. It hugged her willowy frame with its mix of fabric and leather. She looks drawn and fatal, the only colour coming from her blood red lips. She rounds the camera and gives a slight wink into the lens, before the view drops to the floor. The camera follows her heels as she walks through to the bar. I feel inferior in an instant, following hot on her heels. She's in charge. She's a dominant.

After a few moments, the camera cuts to her as she stands behind the bar.

"We have every liquor you could ever ask for, right here behind this very bar top. Just ask one of our tenders and they'll fulfil any order you present," her serpentine tongue peeked from between her lips. In the corner of my eye, I see Christian shift and squirm in response. I turned my head slightly and saw him grimace. "There are several private booths down here, perfect for lengthy discussions or for a group meeting… For somewhere more private, why not ask a tender about hiring a room upstairs? Reservations can be booked online or while you're here. We cater to all your wishes."

I swallowed back the bile building in my throat. I hate the sight of her. I've never harboured such ill feelings in my life.

"When you arrive, all you need to do is give your name to a tender and they will check you into a room. Once you're checked in, the room is yours for a minimum of one hour. Need more time? Not a problem. Your account will be charged directly, so there is no need for paperwork or cash handling."

Ms Lincoln picked up a small tumbler from underneath the bar and knocked back whatever liquid was inside it. She swallowed without grimace or issue. Her tongue emerged again and teased the fullness of her bottom lip.

"Whether you're here with friends or on your own, there's something for everyone. Come with me," she turned her back to the camera and the shot returned to her heels.

She began to climb the staircase, the view widening only when she had reached the top floor and had moved over to the smaller bar at the back of the vestibule. She waved her arms out to the sides and admired her surroundings.

"This level is permanently manned, so don't ever worry about being left alone with a new partner. Or two," she winked again. "You can request an observer if you're feeling nervous. My staff are happy to observe all play to make sure everything is above board… If you're completely new to the community, we offer training on all equipment and apparatus, and we'll even give you all the best tips and tricks to ensure you and your partner are fully satisfied."

She eased backwards, towards the store closet. She opened the door and revealed a long, darkened room with shelves scaling the length of each wall. There are boxes everywhere, neatly piled and no doubt in alphabetical order.

"We stock all types of toys," she explained to the camera, curling her finger to beckon it nearer. "Feathers, chains, leather bonds… plugs, vibrators, dildos. Whatever you want. Within reason, of course." She gave a smirk. "If you require any form of suspension, we need to be notified in advance of your arrival. Just to give our team enough time to unpack and safely assemble the equipment… But if you need anything extra while you're here, just ring the bell when you're inside one of the rooms. There are two calling bells: by the door and by the bed."

She stepped further inside the closet and looked to the left and then to the right. The camera zoomed in and mimicked her, revealing two passageways winding around and away from the door. I leaned forward to get a better view. Christian turned the laptop closer to me, refusing to meet my eye when I looked to him.

"If you don't want to join in the fun, it doesn't mean you can't appreciate the party," Ms Lincoln whispered. She looked to the left. "Each private room is home to several two-way mirrors, allowing you the privilege of witnessing some truly amazing scenes. Each mirror has its own private closet, with enough room for four people. These closest are bookable only by the tender on the top floor of the club."

She started sashayed down the passageway, following the circular route. She stopped at the door marked '3', and opened it to reveal another set of three doors. Without fluster, she threw open the door directly in front of her and stood aside, allowing the camera to check out the small, all-black room. There is a velvet curtain drawn back around a glass panel, looking straight into one of the rooms.

"Unleash your voyeuristic tendencies," Ms Lincoln took a seat on one of the four plush chairs. "You can enter a closet on your own or with a friend. Each of the eighteen closets come supplied with lubricants and tissues… But if you're ready to play, I'd recommend a visit to one of our six -"

Christian ended the video and shut down the screen, his breath quickening slightly. I opened my mouth in a bid to say something but he shook his head.

"The rest is just a tour of the rooms," he tensed. "You've already seen one of the rooms, there's no need for a repeat. Besides, I'd rather acquaint you with my playroom."

I nodded. That makes sense. I don't plan on ever entering one of the rooms at the club again.

"I didn't know about the mirrors," I muttered. I brought my fingers to my lips and starting gnawing on my thumbnail. "That's really…"

"Creepy?" he arched his brow. I nodded. "I agree. It wasn't my idea to install them. Elena is a voyeur."

I tried not to roll my eyes. I could've guessed that myself. "Are the mirrors downstairs like that, too?" I asked instead. The whole club is covered in mirrors. You can't escape your reflection, except for in Ms Lincoln's office.

"No," he shook his head. "The mirrors downstairs are just that. One way. They were implemented after an incident with drug taking happened in New York. We have zero tolerance on weapons and drugs. With mirrors everywhere, members and employees can be seen from all angles. It stops things from going unnoticed."

"So when people go into those closets…" I tilted my head and he nodded, knowing exactly what I was going to say. "That's really weird."

"It's just one of the reasons I'll never use a club again."

"Again? You've used a club before?"

"I only had my own playroom when I moved into this apartment," he explained. "Before that, I was with my domme and we used her playroom. We separated two years before I moved in here. During that time, I used several different clubs."

"Are there many clubs around here?" I wondered.

He nodded. "This community exists and functions only because of its ability to go under the radar. There are places just like _Maîtrise_ all over the place. They're just not advertised. You have to know where to look for them. It's like a chain. All of our members are linked together. When we started _Esclavage_ we needed to make sure we could trust the people coming into the club. We didn't want cops traipsing through the place, finding reasons to shut us down. To the outside world, the clubs are just private cocktail bars for elites and professionals… We vetted everyone and we still do. Nowadays, applicants need the backing of at least two existing members. They are asked to sign a contract and an NDA, and they agree to a monthly subscription fee. Bookings are extras. It's like a gym membership."

"Expensive?"

"Very," his eyes widened slightly. "There are different packages but the cheapest is $600 a month."

"Shit," I gasped. I shook my head in disbelief.

Christian returned the computer to his emails. He pointed to the link to the club website.

"You can find a full list of the club's terms and conditions on there," he informed me. "As well as the contract members are asked to sign. It's all there if you want to give it a read. I'm happy for you to use my details to access the site. We've already broken a whole host of rules, what's one more to add to the pile?" he smirked. I giggled at his comment.

He talked me through the other links he included in the email, briefly showing me each website to settle my doubts. There were no incriminating pictures, no sordid details being shoved in my face. One of the sites was the blog of a practicing submissive who goes by the name of Miss Bunny. The opening post is called 'A Welcome to Curious and Wandering Eyes.' _Apt name_, I thought to myself.

"Bunny is a very intelligent woman," Christian promised me. "She's been practicing for over thirty years. She writes about her experiences with dominants she's been involve with, the different scenarios she prefers, equipment she likes and dislikes… She's very candid at times, but it's not too explicit."

"Do you know her?"

He laughed. "No, no one knows her. She's never released any information about her. No descriptions of what she looks like, any details of where she's from. She's completely anonymous. She occasionally has guest writers to the site. All of them submissives."

"Are there are lot of male submissives?" I asked. "I mean, I don't want to be stereotypical but –"

"It's okay to ask," he smiled gently. "Submission is typically associated with women, we all know that. Dominance is a masculine trait. But you'd be surprised at just how many men are submissives. A lot of high-powered men submit. Stress relief."

"Are you strictly dominant?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "I need to be in control. I can't function without it. I never had it growing up and -"

"What do you mean, you never had control?"

"I think that's a conversation left for another time," he shot the topic down. His refusal to talk burdened my chest, leaving a heavy sensation surrounding my heart. It was exasperated by the momentary sadness passing over his face. He's pained. "Would you prefer to look through the other posts now or later, on your own?"

"I can read them at home," I nodded, glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen. It's getting late, already approaching half eleven. "Can I take the contract home with me, too?"

"Sure," he closed down the lid on his laptop and placed it on the far side of the coffee table. He picked up the contract and held it between his thumbs. "I don't want you to leave here without having looked at it first."

I understood his reasoning behind this. I've already expressed concerns. It'd be easy for me to take the contract home, shove it in a drawer and never look at it again. I could lie to him and say I've read it when I haven't.

He started talking me through the changes that can be made, explaining how a new contract will be drafted to reflect anything that needs to be added or omitted. When I asked how often changes are made, he smiled and told me all the time.

"Everyone is different. Some women prefer rough play, certain toys, it's important that I know the score before anything happens. It's a contract. It's binding and is there to protect everyone. It's business."

I let my eyes wander up and down the page he'd isolated for reading. "So you only meet with submissives for sex?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"No dates?"

"I've never been on a date."

"What? Never!?"

"Never," he repeated, no expression on his face. _How can he never have been on a date? The man's a god walking amongst humans!_ "Have you been on many dates, Miss Steele?"

"One or two," I nodded. "None of them successful, though."

"What's your idea of a date, then?" he asked. "What would you like to do?"

"I don't know… dinner, maybe? A movie?" I shrugged. "But you don't do dates, Mr Grey, so I don't see why you'd be interested."

"Hm…" he hummed and narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm open to a compromise. I'm quite partial to dinner and a movie. I may even stretch to holding your hand…"

My cheeks warmed and I felt a soft, delicate warmth spread through my stomach.

"You've only ever done this sort of stuff, why change the habit of a lifetime? Why me? What makes me so different?" I shook my head.

"You intrigue me," he smiled. "I want to explore you."

"But why?"

"I don't know why," he smirked. I like it when he smirks. He looks younger, almost boyish behind his authoritative persona.

I dropped my eyes to his hands, watching as he started to flick through the rest of the contract. He stopped on the page which outlines what the submissive agrees to do with the dominant. I scanned it and came up clueless.

"I don't know what most of that means," I admitted. I pointed to the first bullet point on the page. "What is that?"

He bit his lip but couldn't hold back the laugh brewing in his chest. I leaned my head back, wondering what is so funny to him.

"Sorry," he shook his head. "That is oral sex… It's asking whether you are willing to give and receive oral sex."

"Right…" my mouth gaped and formed an O shape.

"Receiving isn't an issue for you," he confirmed. "You seemed to enjoy it last week, am I right?"

"I did," I licked my lips. _I really enjoyed it_… "But I haven't ever done that…"

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now, is it something you'd feel comfortable trying?"

I gave myself a moment before nodding my head. I snorted a laugh. "I was going to say don't get your hopes up because I'm probably going to suck at it, but that's sort of the point, isn't it?"

Christian threw back his head and laughed a raucous and interesting sound. "I would love you to suck at it. And I'd love you to agree to this… So take the contract and give it a read. The majority of it is just for informational purposes. It wouldn't be applicable to us."

"It wouldn't?"

"No," he shook his head. "Not in the beginning. I'll need to train you up first, if you say yes."

"Train me up? Geez, this really is like a gym membership!" I giggled.

"I'll need to get you accustomed to play," he corrected himself. "We'd start off small. You can't rush into this. It takes time. Experience. Trust."

"I don't want to get hurt," I said it out loud, the words having pumped around my mind for a short while.

"It's not –"

"No, I know what you've said," I interrupted him. "It's not all about pain but –"

"Ana," he shushed me, placing his finger over my lips. "I don't want to hurt you… That's not my intention. Look, I won't take you into my playroom until you're ready. Not until you ask to go in there."

"Even if I agree to this?"

"Even if you agree to it," he nodded. He spread his palm across my cheek, cupping my jaw. "When you ask to go in the playroom, I'll take you in there."

"What if I never ask?"

"You will," he told me with such surety in his voice. "If you agree to try this, you'll want to go in there. I know you will."

"You seem pretty sure of that fact, sir," I toyed with him. His eyes grew heated at the word 'sir'. He took the contract away and threw it down on the table. Shifting, he leaned closer to me and slid his hand up my thigh.

"I am sure of it," he mouthed. "I'm sure of it in the same away I know that in about three minutes you will be naked, spread out underneath me -" his fingers gripped my leg, squeezing on every other beat.

"Three minutes?" I gulped, my eyes flickering between his and his lips. "That long?"

"In five minutes –" his fingers pushed deeper into my thigh, sending an electric jolt up through my core, "I'm going to be balls deep inside you, fucking you so hard you won't remember what your name is."

He crushed his lips to mine and stole a wet, loud kiss. He peeled away, sucking hard at my lower lip. His dark eyes penetrated mine.

"Well…" I exhaled in a long breath, my chest heaving already. "You better get started then."

* * *

"Fuck…"

Christian dropped his body onto mine, pressing his whole weight down on me. His naked torso panted hard, meshed with my sweaty, limp frame.

"Fuck…"

"Fuck," I nodded, finding it hard to make a sound of my own. My mouth is bitterly dry from screaming. He provoked a noise from me that I've only ever heard from cats. It's like my body wasn't my own, working to meet his touch.

Christian's head fell onto my chest, his lips starting to spread kisses across my collarbones, neck and breasts. My legs are still wrapped around the back of him, my heels hooked around his knees, keeping him to me. I held him close, wanting his thrusts to quicken, harden.

We began on the couch, tearing at each other's clothes, before falling to the floor. He laid me down underneath him and pressed his forearms into my sides, propping his chest up as he pumped his thick erection into me. His hunger was contagious.

"You're incredible," he kissed his way to my lips, dipping his tongue into my mouth. He tasted salty. "Fucking incredible."

I swallowed and nodded against him. He slowly worked his hand down the length of my chest, heading south back towards my sex. His thumb circled my throbbing point, his erection stirring inside me, ready for another bout of passion.

I shivered as he sent another spasm through my pelvis.

"I could spend all night inside you," he groaned, deep, rocking his hips into mine.

"Oh god…" I arched my neck. His tongue danced across my flesh, his mouth nuzzling into my shoulder. "Huh?"

His movements stuttered and broke off. He cursed under his breath and turned his head off, to look behind him. I frowned and searched his face. I steadied my breaths and heard the sound of a cell phone blaring. It was persistent and demanded to be answered.

"I'll turn it off," he grunted as he lifted onto his hands, pushing his body off mine. He got to his knees and stretched across the couch, to grab his cell phone.

The ringing started again, after a moment's pause. He swiped the screen and grimaced.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting up. I tried not to stare at his bobbing erection, but I couldn't stop. It's amazing how that can fit –

"Not my phone," he turned the blank screen towards me. "Must be yours," he shook his head and looked around us, at the mesh of clothing scattered all around.

"Oh," I jolted forward and searched for my jeans. I checked all the pockets before locating my cell, but the call ended before I could answer it.

_Kate. _

"Shit," I hissed.

"Who is it?"

"Erm, my roommate," I muttered.

"What does she want?"

"I don't know, I'll need to call her back."

I curled my legs up towards my chest, to cover myself, and dialled Kate's number.

"Why? Call her later," he shrugged at me. He lifted himself up and sat on the end of the couch.

I shoved my phone against my ear and listened to the dialling tone.

"Kate," I snapped her name before she could greet me. "What's up?"

"Hello to you, too," she snorted. "I was just wondering when you're coming home."

"Um, I don't know yet. Soon."

"Oh right…"

"Why, is something wrong?" my spine stiffened. "Kate?"

"I just need some Advil," she mumbled down the phone, her voice groggy. "And some more tampons and stuff. I'm all out and cramping like a bitch."

"I have some stuff my bedroom," I whispered, glancing up at Christian. He stared at me, his elbows dropping onto his knees. "Bottom drawer. You know where I keep everything."

"You're out too. I've been using your stock," she admitted. "Sorry!"

I sighed and rubbed at my forehead. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Can't you go to the store?"

"You're already out," she whined. "Can you go the store on your way home?"

I pursed my lips.

"You are coming home tonight, aren't you?" she asked with confusion in her voice.

"Yeah, course I am," I nodded. "I'll go to the store on my way back. I won't be much longer."

"Thank you," she squeaked. I could hear her smile. "I'm going to take a bath and cry."

"There are some heat pads in the bathroom cabinet –"

"Fuck heat pads," she grunted. "I need someone to come remove my uterus."

"I'll make some calls," I rolled my eyes. "See you later. Love you."

"Well I'm glad someone does," she laughed and hung up the call.

I pulled my cell down and cleared the screen, before locking and throwing it down onto the rug.

"What's wrong?" Christian prompted, lifting my eyes up from the cream carpet.

"My roommate's not feeling great," I sighed. "She needs to me get some stuff for her on my way home."

"You're going home?" he seemed surprised at my explanation. I nodded. "What, now?"

"Soon," I shrugged.

"I'll send someone to drop off whatever it is she needs," his voice hardened, growing aggravated. I shook my head, dismissing the idea.

"I can't stay tonight."

He huffed back at me.

"Kate flipped out the last time," I defended my choice. "And she needs me home tonight."

"Wow, I didn't realise she's your keeper," he quipped. "Do you need her permission to leave the apartment or…?"

"Don't be like that," I frowned at him. "She's already suspicious. I don't want to give her any reason to think something's going on."

"Suspicious of what?"

I swept my fringe away from my forehead and pinched the bridge of my nose. "No one can know about us," I reminded him. "You've told me often enough. She already knows I'm seeing someone. She knows I've slept with someone and that's why I didn't come home after my shift last Thursday."

"So?" he frowned. "You're an adult."

"It's not that simple," I sighed. "She's my best friend. We tell each other everything… well, we used to. She knows I'm keeping something from her. She's smart, Christian. It won't take long before she puts two and two together, and works out that you're my mystery man."

He threw his head back and snorted. "Ana, I'm sure your friend is smart but she can't be _that_ smart," he arched his brow. "Out of all the men in Seattle, you really think she's going to pluck my name out of thin air?"

"I've already spoken about you," I admitted quietly, hoping for a moment that he wouldn't hear. But he did. He jerked his head to me and narrowed his grey gaze. His chest puffed up. "When my car broke down, I told her you were the one who helped me… and that you were being a bit…"

"A bit, what?"

"That you were being off with me," I continued. "That you were interested in me one minute and then the next you would brush me off."

"For fucks sake…" he hung his head low, shaking it slowly from side to side.

"I said you were my boss's friend," I added quickly. "Nothing more. I haven't mentioned you since, and neither has she."

"Well if ever there's a consolation," he tutted and began rubbing the back of his neck.

"She told me to steer clear of you," I told him. "And as far as she's concerned, I have."

"She is smart then," he said to himself, in a disgruntled tone.

I pushed up onto my knees and grabbed the first item of my clothing that I could find. I used it as a blanket, to shield my modesty.

"Christian, I promised you that I wouldn't tell anyone about your involvement with the club, or about us. I meant what I said," I tried to reassure him but I sensed it was failing. I couldn't fathom whether he was pissed off because I'm leaving or because there's a chance Kate could work this one out. I settled on both. "I'm not going to say anything else. I'll sign the NDA."

He let go of a heavy breath. "It's never been this complicated…"

"I think I should go," I muttered and quickly started to gather my clothes.

"Do you want to go?"

"No. But I have to." I hesitated before looking up at him. "I have to go home now."

"Fine," he stood up and picked his boxers from the floor, yanking them onto his legs. "I'll call Taylor. He'll take you home."

"He didn't come in with me –"

"He can drive you home," he continued. "I've been drinking, otherwise I'd have done it myself."

* * *

"Thank you for driving me home," I glanced into the rear view mirror, hoping to catch Taylor's eye. He looked back at me after a beat, his eyes soft but tired. He gave me a single nod. "I'm sorry if you had other plans."

"It's no trouble, Miss Steele," he dismissed, politely. "Would you like me to walk you to the door?"

"No, that's not necessary but thank you for the offer." I smiled and collected the large brown envelope I stuffed the contract back into before I left Christian's apartment. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Miss Steele," Taylor nodded.

I asked Taylor to drop me off a street away from my apartment. I didn't want to be in view of the windows, just in case Kate was on the lookout for me. I texted her once we'd made our pit stop at the nearest convenience store. Kicking up gravel as I walked, I yanked my keys from my pocket and unlocked the door to the building. I looked over my shoulder, to where Taylor and the SUV are still sitting. I waved my hand and he drove off.

The apartment was still and in darkness as I entered, with just a crack of light emitting from under Kate's bedroom door. I continued straight through to her room, rattling my knuckles three times before entering.

"You awake?" I kept my voice low until I saw her mint-green eyes greet me. I walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge, pushing aside one of her many pillows. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she groaned, trying to lift herself up. Her blonde hair looks dishevelled, piled up into a bun on the top of her head, and her eyes are red-rimmed. She's been crying.

"It's not just period pain, is it?" I asked, even though I knew the answer already. She shook her head. "It's his loss," I rubbed the back of her hand, trying to soothe her. She's in her breakup pyjamas, which also double as her sickness PJs.

"Thank you for going to the store for me," she smiled, reaching out for the bag. She smiled as she found the Hershey's bar I bought for her. "You're amazing… Just take what I owe you from my purse."

"It's on me," I shook my head. "It's the least I can do."

She didn't kick up a fight. She turned her hand over and gave my fingers a firm squeeze. "How was your dinner?"

"It was nice," I smiled. "I ate my own body eat in cheese."

Kate laughed. Her gaze slowly dropped to the envelope I'd placed down beside me. "What's with the envelope?"

"Oh, um…" I snatched it away and held it close to me. "It's just my contract for work. My probation's almost over and –"

"Geez, you've been working there that long already?" her mouth widened. "How do you feel about staying on?"

"I'm looking for something else," I told her. "So how was your night?"

"Well, I finished _Pretty Little Liars_," she perked up, some colour returning to her cheeks. "My mom called. She's finalised our trip to Barbados. We leave on the twenty-sixth."

Kate and her family go on vacation twice a year. By her own admission it's to 'keep the peace and regroup'. Just her, her brother, and their parents. For the past year, each trip has been to Barbados, and each time they've asked me to join them. And each time I've declined their offer. I didn't want to be the odd one out, even though Kate's family have always been so welcoming to me, treating me like one of their own.

"You sure you don't want to come?" Kate puffed out her bottom lip. "We really want you to come."

"I can't get the time off work," I shook my head, giving my latest excuse.

"If you change your mind, we can get you a ticket on our flight," she tried to persuade me. "You'll have to come away with us eventually. Even if we have to gag you first!"

"Maybe we could have a girl's vacation? Just you and me?" I suggested. "A long weekend?"

"You know, I'd really love that," she grinned back at me. "We could go to Cabo!"

"I'll research Cabo, you get some sleep," I laughed and rose from her bed. I smoothed her covers out and tucked her in. "You'll feel better tomorrow."

"What if my uterus explodes and I bleed to death?"

"If you die, does that mean I can raid your closet?" I winked and knocked off her light on my way out of her room. "Night."

"Night, Ana," Kate smiled and lowered herself under her comforter. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

I closed her door and padded on through to my bedroom. I dumped my things on my bed and headed for the bathroom. There, I stripped off my clothes for the second time this evening, and changed into an oversized tank and some sweats.

My mind wandered to Christian as I went about washing my face and brushing my teeth. I couldn't shift the disappointment I saw on him. He'd grabbed my hand just before I stepped into the elevator, linking his fingers with mine before dropping his hand back down to his side.

He wanted me to stay with him. I wanted to stay with him.

I checked everything was switched off before locking myself away in my bedroom. I collapsed onto my bed and shoved everything onto the floor, except my iPhone and the contract. I cleared a space in my top drawer for the contract, knowing I need to keep it stay and away from immediate view. I kept my phone in hand and checked for any new messages.

Nothing. Not even from my mother.

I found the thread of conversations I'd had with Christian and started typing out a new message to him. I took my time with it, reading it through twice before hitting 'send'.

_I wish we could have ended things on a better note tonight. I had a good time, considering. Thank you for dinner. I wanted to stay with you but I can't lie to Kate. If I'd stayed, she would have pressed me for more info. So the best I can do is not give her any ammunition. I will read the contract and check out the rest of the links. I hope you have a good night. Ana x_

I didn't expect a reply. But it came through within minutes.

_Tonight didn't go how I planned it to be. I'm sorry if I was an ass. If you have any questions, just let me know. I'll answer them as best I can. Sleep well. C x_

I kept the conversation going, my fingers typing too fast for my brain.

_I will. I promise. (What were your plans for tonight then? I'm curious.) A x_

_Less tense, more sex. Find out why you ignored me and persuade you to spend the night with me. Possibly the weekend. I wish you could have stayed. I liked having you in my bed last week. It was different. C x_

_Good different? A x_

_Refreshingly good and different. C x_

_But submissives don't enter your bedroom without permission… and they certainly don't share your bed. A x_

_It turns out some rules were made to be broken. C x_

I couldn't stop the all-teeth-showing grin from spreading over my lips. I harnessed a giggle as I re-read his message.

I bit down on my lip.

_What are you doing right now? A x_

_Thinking of you. Thinking of how empty my bed is. You? C x_

_Lying in my bed, wishing you were here. Your bed is much comfier, though. (And if I'm being honest, I'm thinking about how I would've liked to have had more sex with you. You're very good at it, Mr Grey. Not that I have anyone to compare you to…) A x_

Ten minutes went by and there was no reply from him. After fifteen minutes, I conceded that he'd probably fallen asleep or being distracted by something more important. I locked my iPhone and placed it down on my bedside table. I grabbed my copy of _Jane Eyre_ from behind it and lost myself to Mr Rochester.

* * *

Two chapters to the end of the story and I was denied the pleasure of finishing the novel. My phone buzzed loudly. I answered the incoming call without even checking the ID first.

"Hello?" I grumbled, trying to keep my voice down. Kate is fast asleep. I can hear her rhythmic, heavy breaths through the walls.

"Come to the door."

"Huh?" I pulled the phone away and checked the screen. My eyes widened and I bolted upright, kicking at my comforter. "Christian? What are you -?"

"Come to the door. Now." He ordered.

"What door?" I hissed as I jumped from my bed and opened my bedroom door. I half expected him to be standing on the other side.

"The door to your apartment," he huffed back at me, impatient now.

I crept through the apartment and ended his call, leaving my phone on the kitchen counter while I unlocked the door. My hands were shaking as I fiddled with the keys, and my breath was all but stolen as I opened the door to see him propped up against the frame.

"What are you doing here?" I shook my head.

He silenced me, pushing forward and cupping my jaw between his hands. He forced his lips to mine, smothering them in an instant.

"Which room?" he whispered. My brows furrowed. "Which bedroom is yours?"

I pointed lazily behind me, to my room on the left. He eased me backwards, to allow himself into the apartment. He locked the door and returned my keys to the designated bowl by the door, before grabbing my hands and escorting me back to my bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him again, once we were inside my room, behind the closed door.

He tugged off his jacket and threw it on the floor. He sauntered to me and pinned me against my door, his hips grinding into mine. His hands rested on my waist.

"You said you wished I was here," he shrugged, his eyes focusing on my lips. His fingers dipped under my tank top. "So here I am…"

"But…"

"I've acted like a dick tonight," he shushed me. "So I'm here to make it up to you… To end the night how we both wanted it to."

My knees started to buckle as he worked his way up to my braless chest. He teased my nipples into hardened points.

"My roommate," I gulped, shooting a glance to the wall I share with Kate.

He shook his head and pressed his weight into me. He lowered his head and rested it against mine.

"I'll be gone before she wakes up," he promised. "She won't even know I was here."

"She could hear…"

"Then we'll just have to work at keeping you quiet, baby…"


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Sophiedog22** – Thank you! Really glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Pippa** – Thank you! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you, lovely! I'm really glad that you are enjoying my twist on their story. :) I hope you like this chapter and, as ever, looking forward to hearing your thoughts on it. Much Love x

**Rustyarbor50** – Haha, thank you. Yeah, I didn't want Gail to be another 'Yes, sir' type. She's professional but she can still have a bit of fun. I hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Paulina** – Thank you! Really glad you're enjoying it so far. Hope you like this one, too! Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Everyone,**

**I hope this chapter reaches you all in good spirits. **

**As ever, I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your patience and support. It always means so much!**

**Working on the next instalment now.**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

**P.S - Excuse sloppy mistakes. I just wanted to get something out now, and worry about editing later. x**

* * *

Like most people, I would rather wake up to the soft and sensual kisses of a lover, than have your best friend storm your bedroom, screaming your name. Unfortunately, life usually gave me the latter and this morning is no exception.

"Ana!" Kate called my name for a second time, much louder than the last. She didn't bother to knock on my door before flinging it open. "I've been calling your name for ages."

"Kate!" I squeaked her name and quickly scrabbled for my comforter, pulling it high up to my throat.

Panic speared through me. I glanced to my right and saw the rest of my bed empty. I sighed and felt a strange feeling reside in my stomach. There is no note, no clothes on display except for my own. Absolutely no remnants of anyone ever having been here.

Kate leaned against the door frame and narrowed her eyes. She's dressed for work, in a blue button up and light grey pants. I looked across to her and watched as her eyes slowly raked over my room, taking every minute detail in.

"What's up?" I prompted her, sounding grumpier than I had hoped.

"I have to go into the office," she said tersely. "My boss called and he needs to finish up a story. On a Sunday of all days! It means I have to bail on lunch."

"Sure, no problem," I shrugged. I didn't realise that we had made plans for lunch, but in this moment I would do anything to get her out of my room. With every second, I became more conscious of the fact I'm completely naked under my comforter.

"I'm heading over to my parents' tonight, you want to come with?" she asked, unmoving from her perch at my door. Her eyes studied me, inspecting every inch of my face. I nodded and gave a subtle shrug. "Great. I'll come home and change after work. Be ready for six, okay?"

"Sure," I nodded again. I wriggled carefully and tucked the comforter under my arms. Kate still didn't move and I could feel her hawk-like eyes preying on me. My cheeks started to burn, my mouth growing dry.

"Ana?" she prompted, sounding my name in an interrogative way. I gulped and lifted my eyes to hers. "Why are you naked?"

"Who says I am?" I countered, the squeak in my voice giving me away. She arched her brow. "I, um, just got too hot, that's all. I was itchy and I stripped down. I would have kept my clothes in if I knew you were going to barge in here, without knocking."

_Good one. She won't suspect anything now, doofus_… my subconscious smacked her palm against her forehead in dismay. Kate adjusted herself and pursed her lips. She took a step back, crossing the divide, and held the door handle in her left hand.

"I better leave then," Kate's posture grew cold. "I'll see you later."

Before I could say anything else, she closed my door. I heard her heavy steps charge through the apartment, followed by another door being slammed shut.

I shook my head and looked up to the ceiling, guilt rushing through me in an instant. I hate hiding things from her. I fell back against my mattress and threw my arms up over my face.

"And now she's pissed at me," I huffed, my words morphing into a long groan.

"She will come around –"

"Fuck!"

I threw myself forward, clambering off the bed as quickly as my limbs could carry me. I collapsed into a heap on the floor, my knees hitting the ground hard, breaking my fall. My heart pounded in my chest, stealing my breath. Panic raced through me. I didn't want to open my eyes and see who had spoken out at me – who had broken into my house! – but I prised them apart.

From the other side of my bed, I watched as Christian popped his up from and hoisted himself from the floor. He held up his hands, defensively, his face contorting with worry. He shook his head rapidly.

"Shit, I'm sorry –" he fired quickly at me. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I spluttered a strange noise from somewhere in my chest. "Why the fuck were you hiding under my bed then!?"

He flustered, bringing his hands to the back of his head. My alert, wide gaze dropped to his torso for a moment. He's nude except for a pair of boxers that look like they're on backwards.

"I heard your roommate shouting your name," he tried to explain. "You don't have a lock on your door, so I had to hide. I grabbed all my stuff and crawled under the bed. I thought you knew I was under there!"

"How was I supposed to know that?" I shook my head at him. I sat forward, leaning against the bed for support. "The bed was empty. You were gone."

I struggled to hoist myself off the floor, while trying to slow down my breathing. My feet were tangled in the sheets, wrapped tightly around my legs and hips, my upper body completely exposed. I clamped my arms around my breasts, covering them.

"I would have told you if I was leaving," he said with a firm tone to his voice. His eyes dropped to the place where my nipples are currently hiding behind my forearms. "I was going to leave. I didn't plan on staying the night. I didn't bank on falling asleep… I don't fall asleep with someone next to me."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged and sighed quietly. "I don't sleep with anyone. I have never shared a bed with a woman in that way."

"Until now?"

"Until now, yes," he nodded. "I thought the last time was just a one-off. I didn't think it would happen again… Hell, I can't even fall asleep in hotel rooms on my own, let alone if someone is with me! I can only sleep in my bed and even then it's restless."

I didn't like the tone in his voice that suggested him sleeping here last night was a bad thing.

"Are you an insomniac?"

"I suppose," he shrugged again. "I don't like going to sleep."

"Why?" I asked. I tried to assess his mood and came up blank. I couldn't read him. But he seemed content enough to answer my question in that moment.

"I have nightmares. I had them as a child and I guess I'm one of the unlucky ones who didn't grow out of it," he brushed it off, but I didn't buy it. There's darkness in his eyes. Even when they are flared with passion and sex, there is still something sinister lurking behind his gaze.

"Have you ever seen a doctor about it?"

He nodded and snorted. "No one can help me. I'm incurable. I accepted that a long time ago."

The air between us fell silent and he dropped his gaze to the bed. He bowed his head slightly and suddenly I saw sadness wash over him, his face becoming child-like. Something inside me pinged and wanted to throw my arms around, pull him to my chest and hug him dearly, as hard as I could manage. But I was routed to the floor, unable to move. Instead, I tightened my hold of myself, hoping he would somehow feel my warmth from across the room.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" I wondered, carefully treading the water. He nodded back at me.

"It was good until I heard your roommate wailing from the other room," he shrugged and pointed to the bed. "Do you realise how dirty it is under there?" He tried to crack a joke, but neither of us laughed.

"I'll try to remember to vacuum thoroughly," I said coolly. He should be grateful that it's at least tidy under there. I cleaned it all out last week, while trying to find the hundred left socks that were missing from their right counterparts.

"I was hoping to find something incriminating under there," he admitted. "A vibrator, maybe? Or do you keep those in with your panties?"

"I don't have any of that," I said, feeling shy all of a sudden. His brow furrowed slightly. "I don't do that sort of thing."

"You do masturbate though, don't you?" he asked with such confidence and unfaltering wave to his voice. I grinded my teeth together and slammed my eyes shut. _What sort of question is that!?_ "Ana?"

"Maybe…" I whispered. I gulped hard past the dryness in my throat. I didn't want to add that I had only started having cravings since I met him; that I've climaxed over him in my dreams.

A part of me was expecting him to bring up the contract again. I don't know why but I sensed he was thinking about it and automatically my eyes fell on the drawer I'd shoved the envelope in late last night.

He didn't mention it, though. He slowly rounded my bed and approached me with a saunter in his stride. When he came to my front, he slid his fingers across my jaw and held me still while he mouth located mine. He kissed with an unrushed pressure that made my knees do weak.

"I wouldn't leave without telling you first," he repeated, his voice breathy and deep. "I'm not that sort of man."

"No, you just come here unannounced, fuck me and then hide under my bed like a pervert," I joked, the words coming out of nowhere. His expression hardened before a smile spread over his face.

"It does sound rather bad when you put it like that," he murmured, pressing another kiss to my lips. I dropped my arms from my chest and tried to reach up to place my hands on his chest, instead. He caught my fingers before they made contact with his skin. He quickly linked his fingers with mine, his kiss all the while becoming stronger and frantic. "Let me make it up to you… Your roommate will be gone all day?"

I nodded. He spun me on the spot and threw me down on the bed, a squeal escaping my chest as I fell hard against my mattress. His hands tore at the sheet tangled around my legs, throwing it away and onto the floor. He climbed over me on all fours.

"You can be as loud as you want now, baby," he teased. He grappled my hands, his fingers curling around my wrists, and pulled my arms up above my head. As my torso straightened, my nipples grazed as his bare chest, growing tauter in a second.

"I'm loud?" I gulped, my breaths deepening. He smirked.

"Very," he brushed his lips over mine. "I'm going to make you scream… I want your legs shaking, your lungs burning… 'til you can't take it anymore…"

His knees pushed between my own, pushing my legs apart. He pulled my hands together and grappled my wrists in just his left hand, using his right to tug his boxers down enough to free his bulging erection.

"I just can't get enough of you," he groaned as he rubbed himself against me. Without thinking he reached across with his long reach and grabbed a foil packet from my bedside table. I remembered him bringing several condoms with him last night. I thought they had all been used.

In one swift motion, he was inside me, swollen and thick. I arched my neck and chewed down on my bottom lip. He dropped his head onto my chest and thrust his hips inside mine. "I can't give you up. I can't…"

"Then don't," I breathed, my words morphing into a needy groan.

* * *

When Kate arrived home from work, she was still pissed. She stormed into the apartment, slamming doors, curse words flying out of her mouth. I was busy trying to find my cell phone, so left her to it. She shut herself off in her bedroom for a few minutes, while she changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

"What are you doing?"

Kate silently emerged from her room, stopping just outside her door. I looked over my shoulder to her; her arms were tightly bound across her chest, her eyes narrow. I was in the middle of upturning all of the cushions on the couch.

"I can't find my cell phone," I muttered. I didn't want to stare at her for too long. When she's pissed off, she's like Medusa: one stony look and you're screwed. I returned my eyes to the couch. "I had it last night. I just don't know where I left it."

She walked the length of the apartment. Without saying a word, she opened the drawer next to the refrigerator and took out my cell phone. She held it up to me.

"You left it on the counter," she explained. "I didn't want it to get ruined, so I put it in the drawer for safe keeping."

I dropped the cushions in my hands and rushed towards her, accepting my phone with a thank you. She just shrugged her shoulders back at me and started to walk away.

"Are you still coming to my parents' house with me?" she asked.

"If you'll have me," I whispered. She stopped mid-stride and glanced back to me. She rolled her eyes and in a beat her expression softened. "I'm sorry for snapping at you this morning."

"I should knock before going in your room," she shrugged again. "I guess I'll know better next time. It's just never been an issue before."

And it hasn't. We have always had an open door policy. We have lived together for four years and regularly wander in and out of each other's rooms. We use each other's stuff all the time – shampoo, deodorant, socks. We share everything. She has shared the details of every single one of her relationships, even down to the one night stands with guys whose surnames she'll never find out.

And I can't even share with her the fact that I've met someone I like.

"We should leave soon," Kate prompted me. I nodded. "I'll just grab my shoes and purse."

I collected my jacket from the hook next to the door and waited for her to return. I turned my cell phone in my hands, bringing the screen to life. There is a series of unread messages waiting for my attention. Seeing the notifications at the top of the screen, I realised how lucky I am that Kate is not the type of person to read someone else's messages. If I left my journal open and lying around, she'd sneak a look, but never my phone. She pledged never to snoop in someone's phone since the day she hacked into her brother's cell and discovered a series of nude photos. Luckily for her, they weren't of Ethan, just some girl he was seeing at the time. But the incident scarred her for life.

As soon as Kate was ready, we headed out into the cold. I filed into the passenger side of her Mercedes. I made small talk, asking her about her day. It worked and soon had her immersed in conversation with me. My attention was zapped by my cell phone after a few minutes, but thankfully Kate didn't seem to notice. She turned up the music and started singing along with Taylor Swift.

I sifted through my messages, a combination of emails and texts. I had almost mirroring messages from Ray and José – alerting me to an exhibit in two weeks which will be showing a few of José's pictures. I sent a smiley face to both and confirmed I'd be there to support him. I also told Ray I'd call in on him one day next week, to have a catch up. I also had an email from Maîtrise, letting me know what shifts I'll be working next week. Friday through Monday, 6pm-6am. Not too bad. It could be a lot worse. I knew the email had come from Cal. If it was down to Ms Lincoln, I'd be working every day, non-stop. Her attempt at keeping me and Christian apart. I wondered for a moment what she'd do if she knew what was happening between us… I shivered, icy cold bursts slicing through me.

I emailed the email onto Christian. Before he left the apartment late this afternoon, he asked me to tell him what hours I'll be working next week. To my surprise, he replied to the email in relatively no time at all.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 17:49:36**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

Thank you.

Glad to see your hours have been reduced this week. I will be having words with Elena tomorrow. I will keep your name out of it. I checked the rota and four staff members requested and were granted vacation leave without giving the mandatory seven day notice period. She broke the rules.

I would like to see you at least twice next week. We could set one night aside to discuss the contract, if you're ready?

I hope your roommate has calmed down and you enjoy your evening at her family's home.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 17:52:58**

**To: Christian Grey**

Twice seems reasonable, I can stretch to that.

If one night is set aside for contract stuff, what will we do on the other night?

Kate was still annoyed when she came home, but she seems okay now. I don't think I'm solely responsible for her mood. She has some personal stuff going on at the moment.

I hope you have a good evening, whatever you're doing.

Ana x

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 17:58:21**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

I can think of something for us to do.

Good night, Ana.

Christian x

Christian Grey

CEO currently thinking obscene thoughts about a bartender, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 18:01:48**

**To: Christian Grey**

… I hope I'm the bartender you're thinking of. Or have you got your sights set on someone else?

Ana x

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 18:03:12**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

Sorry, totally thinking of Mr Hunter…

Christian x

CEO definitely thinking about a brunette named Anastasia, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 18:04:57**

**To: Christian Grey**

You'd make such a cute couple.

I like that you're thinking of me. It makes me feel special.

Ana x

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Contracted Hours w/c March 12**

**Date: 03/11/2012 18:05:59**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

You are special.

Now leave me alone. I have work to do!

Christian x

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I grinned hopelessly for the rest of the ride to Kate's parents' house.

* * *

It was late when we wrapped up dinner with Patty and Don Kavanagh but with Kate having knocked back three glasses of wine and hardly any food at all, I was responsible for driving us home. We made a detour on the way, Kate protesting that we stop by a grocery store and stock up on wine. She wasn't done drinking, regardless of the fact that she needs to be sober by 8am.

Kate dropped onto the couch as soon as we got back, refusing to even bother with getting a glass for her wine, slurring that it didn't matter if she was the only person drinking it. Concerned, I hovered at her side, toying with my keys.

"You're hitting it hard tonight," I pointed at the bottle. She arched her neck up to me and nodded.

"It's still the weekend, isn't it?" she raised her brows. I inhaled a slow breath and took a seat on the armchair adjacent to her.

"Kate, what's wrong? And don't say nothing, because this isn't like you," I protested. "Is it the same reason you were upset last night?"

Her jaw clenched and she pursed her lips, before attempting to shrug it off. She lasted just four seconds before she started crying.

"Everything's just falling apart," she hiccupped, lowering the wine bottle and placing it down on the coffee table. She swapped it for a box of tissues.

I quickly rose and joined her on the couch, pulling her into a hug, holding her dear to me. I rubbed her shoulder.

"I thought things were okay, I had all my shit together," she started to explain between sniffs.

"You do have your shit together," I tried to comfort her. She shook her head.

"Work is shit. My boss is an asshole, making me jump through fucking hoops all the time," she whined. "The other junior writers hate me. The editor turns down everything I submit… Three of the other writers had signed off on interviews with top executives. What do I have? A 250 word story on the opening of a new restaurant."

I didn't know what to say to that. It didn't seem appropriate to remind her that she was able to at least secure a job working in the field she wants, while I'm stuck at a cocktail bar.

"You know, my dad had to persuade the editor to take me on?" she said, lifting her head to me. Her eyes are wide and glassy, her tears causing her mascara to run down her cheeks. I nodded. "I put down in my application that I was going to be the first person to get the elusive Christian Grey to agree to an interview. I was so sure I could wear him down and get him to agree to it, but the fucking asshole refused every time… I failed and now they hold that against me because they only took me on because my dad paid them to... I'm the girl who can't deliver."

"That's not true –"

"I'm the girl who can't deliver, can't cook… and now, to top it all off, I'm the girl who isn't 'relationship material'," she whimpered, a fresh set of tears making an appearance.

"Who the hell said that?" I jerked my head back.

"Will," she rolled her lips inward and started to tell me about him. He was the sports journalist at the paper who I ran into one morning on my way to the bathroom. He was average height and pushing his mid-thirties. Kate was only seeing him for a month or two but I knew she was infatuated. When she falls, she falls hard. "He's been seeing some other girl."

"What?"

"They've been together a month and she's already become his _girlfriend_," she screwed up her nose at the word. "She is the girl he can take home to meet mommy. I'm just a girl he fucks every once in a while."

I choked on my breath. "Did he say that to you?" my voice became shrill. She nodded. "Kate, he is a total bastard and not worth all this! I know that's not what you want to hear, but you can do so much better than him."

"Maybe he's right," she slumped back against the couch. "I don't have the best track record with men, do I?" she covered her face with her hands. "Oh god, I might as well give up now and buy a bunch of cats. I'm going to die alone."

"That's ridiculous and you know it," I shook my head.

"How is it?"

"Well, for a start, you're allergic to cats," I quipped. I had hoped it would bring a smile to her face, but the wine had affected her capacity for humour. "And second, you're twenty-two. If you were forty-two, things might be different, but you have your whole life ahead of you… There is a perfect man out there, waiting for you… and you're not going to die alone. Ever. You have me. I'm not going anywhere."

She snorted at me. I pulled back my arms and crossed them under my chest. She arched her brow and shook her head.

"You know the cherry on top of this pile of shit is? I'm losing my best friend amongst all this other shit going on in my life," she pushed off the couch and stumbled forward a step. She steadied her balance and started to walk off, holding her hands out to her sides in case her ability to walk suddenly decided to leave her.

"Kate, you're not losing me," I dismissed her claim. I stood and quickly rounded the couch, to reach her. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to look at me. "What makes you think you're losing me?"

"You don't have to pretend, Ana," she slurred. The alcohol was quickly making its way through her bloodstream. "I know…"

Something inside my gut twisted.

"You're seeing someone," she added. "It's obvious… You're sneaking around, being secretive all of a sudden, hiding things from me…"

"Kate –"

She held her hands up in defence. "I get it. You don't want to talk to me about it."

"I do, but it's just –" I stopped myself for a second and sighed. "It's early days. I don't want to jinx anything."

"You do trust me, don't you?" her mint coloured eyes grew sad. Her bottom lip puffed out and she looked on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Wine really doesn't agree with Kate. Vodka makes her happy; wine makes her depressed. "That's not the reason you're not telling me, is it?"

"Of course not," I dragged her forward and hugged her tight, squeezing her with all my strength. I whispered in her ear, "I am seeing someone, but I can't talk about it right now. It's not because of you, it's just… it's complicated. We want to keep things quiet. We don't want anyone to know."

"Why?"

"Because we don't want the pressure of people knowing," I blurted, thinking on the spot. "I wish I could tell you everything about him. And I will, one day… just don't think it's because I don't trust you. The wine is making you feel worse right now. I promise you'll feel better in a few days, once the hangover has worn off."

She was silent for a minute or two, slumped against me like a doll.

"Does he make you happy?" she mumbled, quietly.

"Yes. I like him a lot."

"Okay."

* * *

I helped Kate change into a pair of pyjamas and then put her to bed. I placed a bucket next to her bed, for when the inevitable happens, and left a glass of water beside her. I tucked her in and kissed her forehead, before knocking off the light and closing her bedroom door.

I need to talk to Christian about this whole 'not telling anyone' business. There has to be a compromise somewhere.

Checking the door was locked, I shut everything down for the night and moved through to my bedroom. I pulled my hair back from my face and stripped out of my clothes. I threw on an over-sized t-shirt and climbed onto the bed. Unable to stand the quiet, I grabbed my iPod from my bedside cabinet. It was lying on top of the contract.

I shoved the buds into my ears and started blasting the first song that I came across. I didn't care much for what it was. It was just noise. I picked up the contract and pulled it out of its envelope. My eyes started to wander the first page, my mind numbed by its terminology.

"I'm going to need a dictionary to understand this," I grunted to myself. I rolled across to the other side of my bed and reached for my trusty laptop. It's seen better days, but it still works and I guess that's something.

I was about to start searching when a small box appeared from the corner of my screen.

**_Christian Grey is online_**

I hovered the mouse over the box. Before I could decide whether to message him or not, my laptop pinged loudly, an IM flashing at me, demanding my attention.

**_How is your roommate now? _**

I shook my head at the screen, wondering whether he has some telepathic mind control I don't know about.

_Drunk and upset. Not a good combination. _

**_What is she upset about?_**

_A number of things. Us being one of them._

**_Explain?_**

_It's too difficult to explain right now. It's something we need to talk about in person. _

**_We have a lot of things to talk about. _**

_I know. I was just about to start reading the contract._

**_Now?_**

_I want to be prepared for when I see you. _

**_Please keep an open mind. Remember what I said last night. Please?_**

_ I'll try. _

**_Thank you. I'm here if you want to discuss anything. I really want to make this work, somehow._**

_Me, too. Can I see you on Tuesday? I think I need tomorrow to rest. _

**_Okay. I'm in meetings tomorrow, but you can still reach me via email. _**

_Okay._

**_Sleep well, Ana. C x_**

"I'll try."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Akkess** – I'm sorry you feel that way, but you have your views and I totally respect them. I hope you find another story which doesn't sour your taste for these characters. I personally view this version of Ana as different to the original – but I do have foresight at my disposal, so I know what she's going to do later down the road. I completely understand if you don't want to revisit this story, but thank you very much for reading so far. Much Love x

**Rustyarbor50** – Elliot will be making an appearance! I can't not include him. :) Thank you! Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**SuzB** – Secrecy is a massive part of their 'relationship' at this moment in time, but I do think they have bigger fish to fry. :) And I completely agree with you! Thank you! Much Love x

**BV28** – Thank you for being patient! I hope you like this chapter and it was worth the wait. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Everyone!**

**Wow, didn't realise it had been so long since the last chapter. Time really does fly when you're having fun... or neck-deep in textbooks!**

**I really hope you like this update. **

**Thank you, my lovelies. Your patience and support makes all of this worthwhile!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I woke up the following morning with a serious case of eye strain. It hurt to look left or right and the bridge of my nose felt weighty and compressed. I only had myself to blame – I really shouldn't have stayed up all night. But I couldn't bring myself to put my laptop away. I had to defeat the swell of butterflies in my stomach and read on, educate myself on the stranger part of Christian's life.

I had started with the club's website. I read through the terms and conditions, the membership forms, the testimonials from existing members. It all seemed very professional, legal even. The rules were made to protect members and staff, a way of keeping everything private and restricted. I watched the introductory video again, all the way through this time. After Ms Lincoln revealed the private voyeur booths, she took the camera into one of the rooms. She explained and showed off every detail, every tool and instrument present. I tensed at the very sight of some contraptions, more so at the sight of a blindfolded young man perched on the end of the bed. He was dressed in a tuxedo, the jacket still buttoned up, his hands resting on his thighs. His mouth was pressed firm into a hard line, the black leather blindfold covering almost all of the top half of his face. I wondered for a moment if he was one of the bartenders at the club, but he didn't look familiar to me. Ms Lincoln walked to him with a wicked smile on her lips, holding a cane in her hand. The video ended with her laughing, stroking her hand up the gentleman's arm.

_I'm always happy to be observed, but you need to be a member first. Now, if you don't mind_…

No wonder Christian ended the video as abruptly as he did. Her smirk is enough to incite sickness in anyone. No one should ever be subjected to that.

I did some basic searches into submission. I avoided anything that looked even remotely pornographic, sticking with just articles and explanations. The most interesting thing I learned? It's not all about sex and being tied up and whipped. It's about feeling liberated, free, being able to relinquish control, being able to fully trust the person you're with. It's about intimacy. There was one article that struck me the most. It was a post on the blog Christian suggested I look at.

The piece was written by a man going by the name Milo. He was introduced to BDSM through his partner, previously unaware and uninterested in that lifestyle. Now, he's a practising submissive and enjoys it.

_Before I met 'Jessica', I had never really given much thought to that kind of stuff. I knew it existed. I knew that some people enjoyed being tied up, enjoyed blurring the lines between pleasure and pain. I didn't understand it, but I knew it was all around me – hidden, for the most part. Some people are just kinky. I didn't think of them as freaks or mentally unstable, not like a lot of people believe us to be. I've always considered myself to be liberal-minded, but traditional when it came to the bedroom department. I'm a black coffee, no sugar, no fussing kind of guy – you can keep your cappuccinos, mochas and iced caramel crap. You do your thing, I'll do mine. _

_I knew 'Jess' was different from the very beginning. We were set up by colleagues at work, a blind date that went perfect. We had an amazing time together and hit it off straight away. In the first few weeks, we saw each other almost every day. I was smitten, but I knew she was on a different scale to the other girls I've dated. We were together a little over a month when she told me that she was into BDSM. Needless to say, my jaw hit the ground. _

_She sat me down, gave me an ice cold beer and told me she liked bondage, anal play, got a thrill from dominating her partners. She had dabbled with light play in previous relationships, but no one had ever been fully into it. She wanted to be honest with me, make sure I knew what she liked before I fell head over heels for her. _

_I was shocked. I didn't know what to say. What are you supposed to say? 'Sure, honey, tie me up, pinch my nipples and smack my ass.' I was a fish out of water and floundering. It was only much later I realised that people usually only ever have three reactions to something like this:_

_1\. **NO WAY, LEAVE ME ALONE.** Just hearing it makes your skin crawl, you can't think of anything worse and will never, ever change your mind. Usually this response is a result of the fear or ignorance the media instils in us. _

_2\. **OKAY, BUT NO THANKS**. You're maybe a little freaked out, you have a lot of questions, but it's not for you. You're comfortable with your sexuality and know what you like/don't like. You're limit is rough sex, nothing more. _

_3\. **TELL ME MORE**. A million questions, most of which are pretty stupid but need answering. You are interested, it sounds exciting, you get butterflies at the thought of it. You're turned on and need to know more. You're willing to experiment and if you fall in this category, you'll probably grow to love it. Maybe even from that first spanking. _

_I used to be strictly in the second group. I'm not afraid to admit that I almost crept into the first category at her admission. I was ready to run a mile. 'Jess' understood my reaction, but she insisted that we talk about it before I made my decision. And I'm glad she did. It would have been a huge mistake if I had walked away from her. _

_The more we talked, the more I realised that the words – the labels, the descriptions – was the worst part of it. Fisting was probably the worst of all – I mean, it doesn't sound like a ride at Disney, does it? I was scared of what she was talking about. I was scared of what it'd make me, what my friends and family would think if they found out. I was scared of what people would say about her – would they call her a monster? _

_'Jess' was far from a monster. If you saw her in the street, you wouldn't suspect a thing. She's petite, cute, incredibly smart, the most beautiful woman I've ever known. And so patient. She answered every question, even the ridiculous ones. She helped me to understand why she enjoyed domination. She helped me realise that it doesn't matter what anyone thinks – it's our sex life, not theirs. No one else's opinion matters. _

_She helped me realise that my fear of the unknown was normal. She didn't judge me for wanting to see all of her toys and equipment. I messed around with everything, got familiarised and became less wary of it. I laughed immaturely at the first dildo she showed me, and I was astounded by the anal beads, plugs etc. she pulled out of her bag. Some of the toys were actually quite beautiful to look at. She had great taste. _

_I agreed to experiment. I wasn't ready to give up on us. She was my soul mate. We started slowly, built up the trust between us – because it wasn't just about me trusting her, as most of us will already know. Some stuff was easy, amazing, the most intense sexual experience I've ever had. There are things I liked, things I grew to like, and things I hated. Fisting is a hard limit and always will be. If I didn't enjoy something, 'Jess' added it to the no-go list and we've never tried it since. _

_A lot of people seem to think that doms and subs are just fuck buddies – that a healthy, vanilla relationship can't work. Apparently it's impossible to do what we do and then enjoy the simpler things in life, like dinner and a movie, a foot rub after a long day at work. Granted, the majority of the community already know it's possible to combine kink and vanilla. But I want to try and settle the doubt. 'Jess' and I are proof that it can work._

_Last week, we celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary. Four glorious years of marriage, almost six years together. Sometime in April, we will be expecting our first child – a little girl who will be much loved and cherished. 'Jess' and I still play all the time – her bump is making it interesting, though. We still enjoy bondage, buying and trying out new toys. We still go the movies (although not so much now as 'Jess' spends most of the movie peeing). We still go grocery shopping and argue over what cheese to buy. We still enjoy a quickie in the kitchen and a passionate romp in the bedroom. We enjoy both kink and vanilla and alternate between the two. _

_I had to conquer my fear of the unknown. It was scary and took a long time to push through those self-imposed barriers, but I am so glad I did. Perhaps it's not the ideal situation for everyone, but it can work if you're a newbie to this lifestyle. Communication is key. Talk to your partner and develop that trust and understanding. You need to be comfortable around each other, otherwise this won't work. Be willing to compromise, but never be afraid to safeword and stop play when you're not enjoying it. My safeword is 'watermelon' and I've used it a hundred times over the years. _

_I'm glad I didn't run away at the first sign of the 'abnormal'. Because the 'abnormal' became my normal, my soulmate, my wife._

The post gave me chills and a lot of food for thought. It gave me the strength to go back over Christian's contract. I highlighted the parts I didn't understand, scribbled questions down in the margins. The tension in my stomach dissipated.

* * *

Monday was spent with relentless job searches. I called Ray early in the morning for our weekly catch-up and as soon as he asked me about work, I resounded myself to the fact that I need to get a different job. I can't keep lying to him about my imaginary job in a publishing house. He told me how much he brags to his friends about his smart daughter who works for a top-notch firm. It killed me a little, knowing how disappointed he'd be to find out the truth. Besides, I don't want to work at Maîtrise forever. I never really wanted to work there, period. I don't want to be around Ms Lincoln and her bullish ways. I don't want to be nocturnal. And now I know the truth of what goes on there, I'm not sure I can hold out much longer.

But the most important reason for why I need to leave? The longer I'm there, the more complicated my 'relationship' with Christian becomes. He wants to keep his distance from the club, avoid anyone linking him to BDSM. If I'm going to continue seeing him, we have to sneak around and keep everything a secret. I've never been great with secrets.

Life would be a lot easier if I wasn't working there, wouldn't it? There would be no Ms Lincoln, no lying to everyone about me and Christian. We could be out in the open and honest with people, to a certain extent.

Or is there another reason why Christian is so intent on keeping everything a secret? Would he still want to keep it a secret if I didn't work at the club? Does he want to live up to his confirmed bachelor status? Keep his options open?

Is it me? Does he even want to be seen with someone like me?

With all of these thoughts pulsing through my mind, I had to find a way to distract myself. And what better than trawling through a hundred job vacancies? I applied for several posts within a ten mile radius – personal assistant, receptionist, anything that demands even the slightest use of my brain. I updated my résumé and sent off my applications, praying that I can at least get an interview.

I powered down my computer when Kate returned home around six o'clock. She fell back against the door as she closed it, heaving a deep sigh. With her eyes closed, she kicked off her shoes and threw down her purse and jacket.

"Tough day?" I asked, lifting up from the couch and placing my laptop down on the coffee table. She nodded her head and finally peeled herself from the door. "Will a cold glass of wine help?"

"Wine and junk food," she nodded again. She raised her arms up over her head and stretched out, yawning loudly. "I want carbs and grease and everything that's going to screw up my arteries."

"Pizza is it then," I snorted a laugh. I pulled out my cell phone, ready to dial the pizza place just down the block from our apartment. "There's a bottle of wine in the refrigerator."

"I'm going to take a shower first," she grumbled. She took the tie from around her wrist and pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail. Her eyes were rimmed with mascara and eyeliner, signs that she's been rubbing at them. I couldn't tell whether it's from crying or tiredness. But I knew what she needed in that moment.

I rounded the couch and rushed over to her, opening my arms out as I met her side. I cocooned her into a warm hug and squeezed her close to me. She stood fixed for a moment, before she relaxed and dropped her head onto my shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I repeated my apology, for what felt like the hundredth time. I swear all I seem to do lately is apologise to everyone I know. Even I'm beginning to get annoyed with hearing those words. "And for what happened last night. I didn't know it upset you so much."

"It was the drink," she shook her head against me, but I knew it wasn't just alcohol that had caused so much distress in her.

"You were right, Kate, I have been hiding stuff from you," I said. "I've been a shit friend recently and I haven't been around much… and I've been lying to you about where I've been, who I've been with."

"You haven't been out with friends from the club, have you?" she asked, her chin bouncing off my shoulder with every syllable. I shook my head. "I didn't think you were. So how long have you been dating this mystery guy?"

"A couple of weeks," I shrugged. "But I don't think we're technically dating. It's really complicated. It's still early days, too soon for labels."

Kate leaned back and looked me in the eye. She narrowed her mint-greens and tilted her head to the side. "Complicated how?"

"We kind of work together," I gulped, careful with my words. "No one can find out we've been seeing each other. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"Why?"

"My boss doesn't like mixing business with pleasure," I explained. That much was true. Christian is my boss. "It'd cause a lot of trouble and headaches if anyone found out about us. And I wish I could tell you, but I promised I'd keep it a secret as long as I'm working there."

"If you made a promise, I can't expect you to break it," she nodded slowly. "I would be pissed if you broke a promise we made."

"I can't tell you who he is, not now," I pursed my lips. "Listen, why don't you head for a shower? I'll order the pizzas and we can sit down and talk. I'll try to explain everything. I'll tell you as much as I can about him."

"You don't have to do that," she shook her head and offered a semi-genuine smile. "You can't talk about it. I understand."

"No, I want to talk about it," I protested. I need to get some of this burden off my chest. It's like there is a weight buried deep in my stomach. "I have to talk about it with someone. I'm sure he'll understand, as long as I don't bring his name into things."

_I sincerely doubt that_, the voice in my head huffed and rolled her eyes at me. _You can't mention his name, anyway. Kate would have a fit if she knew. She blames Christian for her work issues, thinks he's the root of all evil!_

"I won't pry," she crossed her fingers over her heart and nodded. "I'll accept whatever you'll tell me. I'll just be happy to talk, like real girl talk. The only girl I've spoken to properly is my mom and it's like talking to a brick wall with her."

"Well, I'll try to be as animated as possible," I smiled and sent her on her way.

I'll deal with Christian. He has to compromise – this whole thing is based on compromise, at least that's what everyone online says. He has to grant me the ability to talk to my best friend. He has to meet me halfway.

I slumped back down on the couch and ordered the pizzas, ending the call in no less than thirty-two seconds. We order from them a lot, ordering the same thing each time. I leaned back into the cushions and pushed my hands back through my hair, beating my fingers off my scalp.

"He has to meet me halfway," I mumbled. "He has to compromise -"

I was interrupted by the bleeping of my cell phone, alerting me to a new message. Probably the pizza place. I swiped the screen and opened the text, my finger already poised to delete it.

I was surprised to see Christian's name in the heading.

_I hope you had a good day. Are we still on for tomorrow?_

His message seemed distant and off.

**_My day was good, thank you. How was yours? And yes, I'm free all evening. A x_**

_My day was difficult and long. Good, I'll pick you up at eight._

It was his lack of kiss that unsettled me. The vast majority of his texts have them. Even his emails.

**_Difficult? A x_**

_Work stuff._

**_Do you want to talk about it? A x_**

_No. What are you doing this evening?_

Still no kiss.

**_I'm having dinner with my roommate – girl's night in. You? A x_**

_Okay. I don't know, but I'm sure I'll find something to occupy my time. I hope you have a_ _good evening with your friend._

I studied his text a few times, hovering my finger over 'reply'. I chewed on my lip, ribbing it back and forth between my teeth, wondering what to do.

Even in the short time I've known him, I'm well aware that Christian has the ability to shift from one mood to another in the blink of an eye. He's mercurial and unpredictable. He can be intense and passionate, then cold and insular without any warning. When we first met, he was seductive and then he dropped me like a hot potato. It's like there is something in his brain that triggers the darker side of him, the introvert and private man who lives high up in the Seattle skyline. In a place where no one can reach him.

I imagined him sitting down at his piano or in one of the armchairs, looking out into the night, focusing on all or nothing. A blank expression on his face. His lips pressed together tight, jaw clenching. Trapped in his thoughts and worries.

I mapped out my reply without giving it much thought. I wanted to be honest with him, but also do whatever I could to lessen his troubles.

**_I'm really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. It'll be nice to spend some more time with you. I've read the contract. I've done some research. I'm ready to talk about this. I want to make this work. A x_**

It took him a while to respond.

_I do, too. Goodnight, Ana. C x_

* * *

**Merry Christmas, Everyone! I hope this holiday brings you lots of love, happiness and peace. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Piso29** – Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed it. I hope you like this one too! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you. I'm sure that'll be an interesting conversation! And I totally understand your other comments. Things have been ridiculously busy and intense, but I do hope in the new year I'll be able to get back into the swing of things and post more regularly. :) Much Love x

**GG** \- Thank you! I'm really glad you liked the last chapter. :) Hope you like this one! Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Lovelies,**

**As promised! I hope you like this chapter. And I would like to wish everyone a very Happy New Year! May 2016 bring all of us lots of love, good health and precious memories that will last a lifetime. :)**

**Note regarding the end of chapters: as you might know, I'm quite a fan of cliffhangers and I make use of them a lot. However, recently (and this will continue in the future) I've ended chapters in what would probably count as an odd place. I haven't done this to make it a cliffhanger - it simply makes it easier for me in the writing process. It helps me to stay motivated with this story. I hope this isn't too much of an issue and it doesn't spoil your enjoyment in any way, shape or form.**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

"Do you think he would change his mind if you worked somewhere else?"

Kate asked the question that worried me for most of the day. She stared at me from over the brim of her glass, watching for my reaction. I inhaled a long, slow breath and shook my head at her, before taking another gulp of my wine.

"I don't know. He's a private person," I fingered the shaft of my glass. "He doesn't people knowing his business, not even his family."

"Got some skeletons in his closet then," she observed with a nod of her head. I didn't reply to that comment. She doesn't know the half of it.

"I hope he'd be less intense about the secrecy thing when I leave the club, whenever that'll be," I said. "I mean, I don't want him to stand on a rooftop and broadcast the news to all of Seattle, but it'd be nice not to sneak around and keep everything on lockdown. It'd just make everything easier. Less stressful."

"I've not helped, have I?" she asked, though her question didn't warrant an answer and she knew it. She gave a gentle smile. "I guess there are pros and cons on each side… It might make things easier in some ways, but you'd be opening yourself up to a lot of scrutiny. Maybe that's what he's worried about?" she offered, leaning back into her side of the couch. She brought her knees up to her chest and continued. "The last thing you want in the early days of a relationship is people sticking their nose into your business, judging you all the time. Have you spoken to him about this?"

"A little," I shrugged my shoulders. "When we're together, there hasn't been much time for talking..."

"A bit more than I needed to know," Kate shook her head and flashed me a grin. "But I could've guessed as much. You've had a glow about you these past few weeks."

"Cliché much?" I quipped. She rolled her eyes.

"You seem different. More… _worldly_," she pondered on her word choice for a while. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

I nodded and took another gulp from my glass. The wine doesn't compare to the one I had with Christian a few days ago. That tasted crisper, more fragrant and less acidic. This wine is bitter and burning my throat. I can't help but wince with every sip.

"You should talk to him, tell him what you're thinking," she advised me, giving my leg a nudge with her toes. "From what you've told me, he sounds like a good guy. Intense and a little strange, but not a monster."

"He's far from it," I shook my head, adamantly.

"Talk to him," she repeated, as if the information would sink in better the second time around. "As awkward as the conversation may be, he won't know what you're thinking and feeling until you tell him. You both need to be on the same page, know where you stand."

"I know. And I will talk to him. There's a lot that we need to discuss," I admitted. The list really does seem to be endless. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. "I didn't think it'd be this complicated. Is it always this hard and confusing?"

Kate gave a muffled laugh, the couch bouncing underneath her giggling. I brought my head down and threw her a glance. She grinned at me and shook her head.

"You've spent too long with your head in a book," she laughed. "It's all fairy-tales and happy ever afters in the stories you read. A little drama along the way, but you're safe in the knowledge that your protagonists still end up together… Real life just isn't like that. It's a hell of a lot more difficult, and relationships are a total head-trip. But it keeps things interesting."

I inhaled a deep breath. I'm already experiencing the head-trip and I don't even know if I'm in a relationship with Christian. I don't know what's going on.

"Does he like you?" she asked, forcing my thoughts back into the room. I snapped my head to her and frowned. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"I don't know," I pursed my lips and pulled my feet up underneath myself. "He certainly gives off the impression he does at times. But he can be a bit… volatile."

"_Volatile?_" Kate sat up straight, tilting her head to the side.

"That's maybe not the right word," I lifted up my hand to stop her from slipping into a hissy fit. "He can go from one extreme to the other. One minute he's all over me, but then he'll go cold and kinda shy. Like, I have to try to coax him out of it…"

"Some guys are like that," she said, reaching out to grab another slice of pizza. "He might feel a bit uncomfortable around you, that's normal in the beginning."

"It is?"

"Sure it is," she mumbled, peeling a piece of pepperoni off her slice. "But if it bothers you, mention it to him. He might not even be aware he's doing it… Communication is key, Ana. Trust me on that."

"I do," I nodded. Christian reminded me of the very same thing. Different circumstances, but the same message.

"Just promise me three things, yeah?" she requested, throwing pepperoni into her mouth before licking at her fingers. When I didn't reply, she continued. "One - be upfront with him, tell him how you feel. I've made the mistake of keeping stuff to myself and look where that's got me. On my own, drinking cheap wine on a Monday night, risking a coronary from eating yet another pizza from _Lazy Lou's Pizzeria_."

"Okay," I nodded.

"Two – don't get too caught up in the whole 'I need to please him' thing," she curled up the end of her pizza. "You'll want to do whatever it takes to make him happy, but don't lose sight of who you are and what you want."

"And number three?" I asked, shifting on my side of the couch. I pulled a cushion out from behind me and placed it in my lap. I fiddled with the zip.

"Don't get yourself knocked up," she smirked and turned her chin towards me. She arched her brow. "I don't want to play babysitter. Screaming babies aren't my thing. Go see my OB-GYN, please?"

"I will," I nodded. My cheeks singed with a hot blush. "I think that's the last thing either of us want… I think Chris -"

I stopped myself in an instant, my heart jumping into my throat. _Fuck!_

I couldn't think of how to backtrack.

Kate stared intently at her fingers for several moments. I waited for the penny to drop – for her to snap her head to me, eyes and mouth wide…

"Good, because Ray would go postal if you got yourself knocked up," she nodded and shoved the pizza into her mouth, chomping on it loudly. She held her hand up to her mouth and continued, "Seriously. He'd hunt down the guy shacked up with his daughter and use his balls for bait!"

"I'm sure he would," I sighed in a long, relieved breath.

That was close. Too damned close for comfort.

"Best not introducing Ray to your boyfriend for a while, just to be safe," she smirked and bumped shoulders with mine.

_My boyfriend… If only…_

* * *

It felt good not needing to lie to Kate about where I was going. She seemed happy enough with the information I gave her, content with not knowing the full details. She didn't pressure me for his name, didn't prompt me into revealing too much. No, I almost did that myself. It's bad enough that I have to tell Christian what I've told Kate – he'll go crazy if he finds out I almost gave the game away.

At eight o'clock sharp on Tuesday evening, I heard a car beep from somewhere down on the street. It was followed by a short text from Christian, confirming his arrival. Not a second early or late, but I didn't really expect anything else from Mr Grey.

Inhaling a deep breath, I checked the contents of my purse once more and then set off. Kate called out her goodbye before I closed the door. I raced down the steps and emerged from the building, into the surprisingly still evening. It had been raining for most of the day, but now it seems calm and peaceful. The dewy smell of water on the pavement caught my nose and made me smile.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk and searched up and down the street, looking for the black SUV I knew would be picking me up. I found the car a short walk from my building, the headlights flicking on and off to grab my attention. With its blackened windows, I struggled to spot who was sitting in the driver's seat. As I approached the car, I wondered if Christian had sent Taylor to come fetch me. I prepared myself to hop into the back.

Before I could reach the rear passenger side, the front door popped open, a quiet hum of violins seeping out of the sound system. Confused, I peeked inside and saw Christian leaning over the passenger seat, one hand still on the steering wheel.

"Get in," he nodded to the empty seat beside him. He returned to his side and squared up his seat belt, adjusting it over his simple light blue shirt, undone at the collar.

I climbed into the car and yanked the door shut. A little too forcefully. It caused the car to bounce. I could feel my cheeks burning already. I know I'm on edge, a mix of both excitement and nerves thumping through me.

"Hey," I said finally, offering a shy smile. His deep grey eyes fixated on mine, his expression stony for a moment. His lips curled and a smirk appeared over his lips, so simple and earnest yet still causing such relief inside me. "How are you?"

"Better for seeing you," he reached across with his free hand. He bound his fingers around mine, before linking our hands together. His palm was warm and maybe a little damp. Much like my own. "You look beautiful."

I gulped and a small laugh escaped me. I jerked my head down and took note of my outfit: dark wash skinny jeans, a pair of brown leather ankle boots, a plain white t-shirt and my denim jacket. I'd thrown everything on last minute, struggling to find something clean. I really need to do some laundry.

"Thanks," I mumbled, dragging my eyes up to his. "You do too."

He laughed and the sound of it was music to my ears, a chill shimmying over my skin.

"You seem a lot happier than you did yesterday," I observed, giving his fingers a squeeze. He returned the gesture before breaking our hold, returning his hand to the wheel and starting up the engine.

"Yesterday was a tough day," he nodded, the smile lingering over his mouth as he spoke. I hoped it would stay that way all evening.

"You said it was work related," I added. He nodded again and pulled the car away from the pavement, driving slowly down to the end of the street. "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," he rolled his shoulder, his head centred on the road ahead. The smile was already starting to dip.

"Are you sure it was work stuff that had annoyed you?" I asked, the words blurting from my mouth before my brain had time to process them. "I mean –"

"You think I'm lying to you?" he asked, twisting his head to look at me for a moment. I stared into his unblinking eyes. I didn't shake or nod my head. "What makes you think I've lied to you?"

"It's not that I think you're lying," I muttered. He turned his head away and focused on the road again, just as we approached a traffic light on red. We came to a gentle stop behind a dirty orange truck. "It's just… I don't know."

"You do know, you just don't want to say it," he countered.

"You didn't put any kisses at the end of your texts," I said finally, shaking my head and folding my arms around myself. I could feel his eyes on me as I studied the back of the truck ahead.

"So this is because I didn't put an 'x' in a message to you?" his voice was crass and burgeoning on laughter. Now that he said it, it did sound ridiculous.

"Were you pissed off at me?" I asked bluntly.

"Why would I be pissed off at you?"

"Your attitude changed when I mentioned the contract. That kind of made me wonder if –"

"Ana." He uttered my name with firmness, a tone that demanded my full attention and gaze. I gulped and turned my chin to him, finding a much softer expression on his face. "I don't mean to sound rude, but my mood yesterday had nothing to do with you. It wasn't because I was annoyed with you. It was just work stuff."

"Are you -?"

"I wasn't lying to you," he cut me off. "And I don't like being called a liar. I had a bad day at the office. I messaged you because you were on my mind. If my attitude changed at all, it's not because you mentioned the contract. It's because just talking to you for five minutes brings me a small piece of happiness."

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his eyes stirred something deep in my core, a feeling that radiated out of my mouth in a strange humming sound. It was impossible to describe and impossible to replicate.

"In my darkest hours since I've known you, I've been able to just think of you and my world ceases to feel so painful and futile," he continued, giving no response to my general melting-into-a-puddle state. "But for future reference, I'll remember to always put an 'x' at the end of my messages."

I almost smiled at his comment, but my lips had no strength to move. I just forced my head to nod and my eyes to blink.

"Now that's cleared up, can we enjoy this evening?" he asked, cocking his head slightly. I glanced out of the windscreen and saw the light still on red, the truck unmoved. I could have sworn the ground had vibrated and propelled us forward a mile. "If you really need to know what pissed me off yesterday, I'm happy to tell you."

"I think I'd like that," I nodded. "T-Thank you."

He shifted in his seat and took the wheel again, just in time for the lights to change. It's like he has some sort of secret power, knowing exactly how these roads work, what other drivers are thinking, what I'm thinking…

"Good," he pressed something on the steering wheel, the music lowering significantly. "It'll give us something to talk about. We've got quite a drive."

"We have? Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he shook his head once.

"I don't like surprises."

"Neither do I, strangely enough. But I hope you'll like this one," he hummed quietly. We zoomed past a sign for the freeway and he increased his speed, deftly overtaking the dirty truck. "Right. I'm warning you, this story is both long and boring. You probably won't understand anything I'm about to say, and I won't stop to explain everything. You'll just have to keep up, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, a smirk splitting over my lips. I settled back into the seat and unfolded my arms, allowing my hands to fall down to my lap. "I'll try to keep up."

"I have shares in a London based firm…"

I leaned my head against the rest behind me and turned to face him. I stared at him and couldn't help but grin as he became animated, recounting his troubles and quips. Just the sound of his voice relaxed me. I don't think I could ever get over hearing his voice. I'm ruined already. I'm already his.

* * *

We drove for a little over forty-five minutes. I had no idea where we were going and Christian didn't give me a chance to enquire about our destination. He talked the whole ride, telling me all about the technical problems he encountered yesterday – as well as ranting about the seven employees he fired for not hitting targets. While he spoke, I gathered just how difficult it is to operate in countries all over the world. And, really, I couldn't blame him for being out of whack yesterday. I was getting a headache just hearing him talk about it.

I leaned forward once again and looked out of the window, trying to determine where we were. It was far too dark and I didn't recognise the area. I could vaguely make out the water on our right, popping into view every few seconds, in between cars and buildings blocking its way.

"Have I bored you yet?" Christian spoke loudly, jolting my head towards him. The right side of his smile curled upward. "Sorry, I can get carried away."

"No, it's nice," I shook my head. "I can tell you're passionate about it… It's obvious that you love your job."

"I enjoy making money and solving problems," he corrected me. He slowed the car down as we approached a grey panelled building. "I think it's important that you do something you enjoy."

"Is that another hint that I should jump ship and find another job?" I arched my brow at him. His smirk grew wilder. I rolled my eyes. "I'm looking for something different. I sent off some applications."

"Good," he nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. The sooner you get out of Maîtrise the better."

I bit down on my lip, ribbing it between my teeth for a second. Christian swerved the car and pulled into an empty spot outside the grey building. He switched off the engine and unfastened his seat belt, reaching out and unbuckling mine too.

"Can I ask you something?" I forced myself to voice the question festering inside me. He narrowed his eyes slightly, a look of concern growing over his face. Five words that have the ability to put the fear of god in people. "About me working at the club."

He nodded and waited for me to continue, uninterrupted.

"If I wasn't working at the club, would we still need to sneak around?"

His expression hardened and his shoulders lifted slightly.

"Are we sneaking around because you don't want anyone to associate you with the club, or because you don't want to be seen out with me?" I asked more specifically. "Or is it because of your lifestyle?"

He sighed, silencing me.

"I have to know," I persisted. "Please, just tell me?"

"It's a combination of things," he muttered, blinking hard. My heart thudded in my chest. "You know why no one can know about the club. It would kill my career, Ana. I don't want people to know what I do in my spare time. I don't do interviews because I like to keep a firm distance between my professional and private life."

"So we'd still sneak around?"

"Is that what you want? For me to release a statement to the press, announcing that I'm seeing you?" he asked. "Because that's not what I do… Would I introduce you to my parents? Definitely. Do I want to parade you as mine, stop other guys from approaching you? Yes. I'm not ashamed of you, if that's what you're thinking. I just don't want to rush into anything like that, at least not until I know what's happening here. We have enough to contend with. Why complicate this any further?"

I didn't say anything.

"If I had met you outside the club, met you in a diner somewhere, none of this would be happening," he continued. He grabbed my hand from my lap and cupped it between his palms. "I would take you to functions and events. I would have taken you to Aspen. I would have introduced you to my idiot brother, my excitable sister… The club is the problem, not you."

"Okay," I nodded, wriggling my fingers in his hold. "That's all I needed to know."

He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the pad of my thumb. "We just have to be careful."

As he said that, I looked around the car and thought about other people catching us. Sensing my concern, Christian kissed my thumb once more and then jerked his head to the side.

"Shall we?" he reached around himself and popped open his door. He let go of my hand and stepped out of the car, closing the door and sauntering around my side. He yanked open my door and held his hand out to me. "Come on, we've got plans."

I slid my fingers across his palm and climbed out, embracing the cool breeze. The salty air tickled my nose. He locked the car and led me away from the sidewalk, heading up towards a parking lot behind us. It was then I caught my first glance of the dock.

"I can't take you out to restaurants," he explained, following the wooden decking. His hand gripped mine. "We can't risk being seen at the movies, so our options are limited. But I still want to offer you a date."

"_A date?_"

"Dinner," he nodded. "Somewhere private, where no one can disturb us."

"Where no one can see us."

"Precisely."

We continued down the dock, until we reached the section where much larger boats were parked. Turning to the side, we stepped down onto a small, narrow walkway. He pointed to the boat at the end. My jaw fell at the sight of it – a large, pristine yacht that glistened under the moonlight. _The Grace_. The name was elegantly scribed on the front.

"You hired a boat?" My eyes widened.

He shook his head. "I own it. I've had her for a couple of years."

The boat was unattended when we reached it, but all of the exterior lights were shining bright. Towards the rear of the boat a ladder had been extended down, the base resting securely on the deck. Christian led me to the ladder and finally let go of my hand, before climbing first.

"Are you okay on water? You don't suffer from sea sickness, do you?" he asked as he spun on the spot, looking down at me from his perch.

"No, I'm fine," I shook my head and placed my hands on either side of the ladder. I ascended myself, shrugging off his offer to help me. "My step-father is a keen fisher. I spent a lot time on the water as a kid."

Christian smiled and hooked his hands underneath my arms, levying me as my feet touched the laminate floor of the boat. His fingers lingered against my ribcage, wanting to be certain I was steady before he stepped away.

"Ray would love this," I observed, looking all around me. Everything was so shiny and clean and perfect. Expensive.

"Maybe one day I'll have to take him out," he said in a distant tone, one that made me question whether he knew what he had just voiced. I didn't reply to it either way. He brought his eyes to mine and stared at me for a moment longer than necessary. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?"

"Had a girl on my yacht. Well, aside from my mother and sister," he rolled his eyes, but deep in those stormy greys I knew he loved his family. "You're my first, Ana."

Butterflies waved through my stomach. It was a good thing that he hadn't let go of me. There was a chance I may have toppled over and sank head first into the water otherwise.

"I don't know what constitutes a date. I've never been on one before," his hands left my ribs and moved up to my jaw. He cupped my cheeks, his thumbs rolling over the corners of my mouth. "I'm sorry if this is dreadful or if I fuck it up. I just wanted you to have a normal evening. As normal as I can manage, that is… I think it's only fair that we do something you might enjoy."

"Just being with you is enough," I blew out in an unsteady breath. "But I won't turn down a night under the stars."

"I can't promise you the stars," he grimaced, casting a look up to the cloudy sky. "But I can promise you a delicious dinner, music and conversation."

I nodded my head at his final addition to the plan. "I read the contract."

"I know. You told me," he pressed his right thumb to the swell of my cupid's bow. "We don't have to talk about that tonight."

"There's some stuff I kind of need to talk about, though." I explained. I didn't want to ruin the moment, but the basics need to be covered. I let my hand fall from his arm, my fingers brushing my purse on their way down to my side. I brought the contract with me, having stuffed it into my purse just before I left the apartment. All of my notes are highlighted, circled and underlined. "I have a lot of questions."

"I imagined you would."

"Will you answer them?"

"Tonight?"

"In general," I clarified myself. "If I ask you a question, will you answer it?"

"To the best of my ability," he agreed. He dipped his head forward and brought his lips to mine, merging them together in a sweet, tender manner. He didn't prise mine apart or force his tongue into my mouth.

In that moment, he was the perfect gentleman. He was the stranger who followed me home, making sure I was okay because he caught me crying. He was the man who was protective and caring the night I lost my virginity. It was a flash of the angel I know to be inside him. It is possibly my favourite shade of his multi-coloured personality.

"I will do whatever it takes to explain my lifestyle to you, to make this easier on you," he continued. "If there is anything specific you want to discuss tonight, we'll talk about it, I promise. I won't shy away from your questions. But I'd like to save the detailed conversation for another night, if possible."

"I can deal with that," I agreed.

"If I only have you for a few more hours, I want to make the most of them," he whispered, resting his lips on mine, the vibration of his voice beating down into my chest. "I want to make a memory of you before you disappear."

"I'm not going anywhere," I shook my head. A smirk spread over my mouth. "Not without dinner first… Shall we let your baby loose on the water?"

"It'd be my pleasure, Miss Steele." He nodded and pressed another kiss to my lips, before parting from me. He stepped back a pace and reached for my hand. "Come. I'll give you a tour once we've anchored out on the sound."

If it was in any way obvious that I was a bundle of excitement, a visible bounce in my step, he was kind enough not to mention it. Probably because he felt the same. There was a glint in his eyes that told me he was nervous and on unfamiliar ground. We're both fish out of water, desperately gulping the air around us, trying to find a way to exist.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**SuzB **– Oh Christian has probably already found the perfect job for her, whether she'd take him up on the offer is something else entirely. Glad you liked the previous chapter. Thank you! Hope you like this one too. Much Love x

**LA** – Thank you, my dear! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :) Hope you like this one! Much Love x

**Sha** – Thank you! Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Mary** – Thank you! Really hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Everyone,**

**Your patience is inspiring and greatly appreciated. I really hope this chapter reaches you in good health.**

**I hope you enjoy reading this chapter. More is definitely coming, and hopefully it won't be as delayed as this one.**

**Thank you all so much!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

Christian anchored _The Grace_ about twenty minutes away from shore, in a place where the horizon was blurred and only tiny pulses of light marked our route back. Watching him power the yacht was both impressive and worrying. Is there no end to his talents? Expert driver and yachtsman? What's next - free-falling from the sky?

He stuck to his word and gave me a tour around the cabin once we'd stationed. There are several bedrooms and bathrooms, along with a sitting room, bar, kitchen, and an ostentatious master suite. It matched his bedroom in Escala perfectly, even down to the sheets.

"Take a seat," Christian gestured as we stepped back into the sitting room. I chose the small cream couch, pushing aside the pillows as I sat down. "I'll get us some drinks. Wine?"

"Thank you," I nodded. He dipped out of the room for a moment.

I took the opportunity to look around more intensely, searching for any personal touches, anything unusual. A couple of vanilla scented candles had been lit, and there was a bouquet of white roses on one of the tables. Nothing jumped out at me, except for a single photograph in the far corner of the room. I stood up and quietly neared it. The picture was small and housed inside a simple wooden frame. It showed Christian with two women, one on either side of him: on his left, a beautiful, young girl with caramel skin and shoulder length black hair. She was grinning from ear-to-ear, infectious, the corners of my own lips hitching up at the sight of her. On Christian's right, there stood an older woman, smiling sweetly at the camera. She had dark blonde hair that had been pushed back into a ponytail, her face was clean and free of makeup. She hardly looked a day over forty, but her eyes were full of wisdom and kindness. In a single moment, I felt like I could trust her with my life.

"Found something interesting?"

I jumped back a pace and spun on the spot, snapping my head towards the doorway. I gulped hard as I glanced at Christian standing there, holding two glasses in his hands, a bottle of wine tucked into his elbow. His eyes fell upon the picture frame between my hands.

"I'm sorry," I shook my head and quickly placed the frame back where I found it. "I didn't mean to –"

"It's fine," he shook his head, brushing it off with ease and grace. He leaned forward and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I don't mind. I have nothing to hide in here."

"I just saw it and…" I pointed to the end table. "It's the only one and I…"

"My mother and sister," he nodded his head to it. "I don't usually display photographs but I like that one."

"It's a beautiful picture," I smiled. I took another glance to his mother. "What are their names?"

"Grace and Mia," he said, coming to stand at my side. "Grace is my mother. I named this boat after her."

"She looks like an extraordinary woman," I nodded. "She has a kind face."

"She's incredible," he agreed. His hand skimmed up my arm, settling at my elbow. I lifted my eyes to him. "I hope you'll get to meet her one day. I think she'd like you."

"Have you ever introduced a woman to your mother?" I asked before I could really think of what I was saying. His eyes twitched in response.

"No," he said sharply. "As far as my family is concerned, I've always been a single man. I'm sure deep down they know I haven't been celibate, but it's never been a topic of conversation."

"I should feel honoured then, that you'd be prepared to give them proof that you're not a monk," I snorted. His expression remained placid. "I would like to meet your family one day. From what I've read about them, they all seem wonderful."

"You've been internet stalking?" he arched his brow.

"Just a Google search," I shrugged. "There isn't much to find."

"I've worked hard to keep everything private," he nodded. "The last thing I wanted is for anyone in my life to be hounded by the press. You included. I protect what is important to me."

I ribbed my lower lip between my teeth, swaying gently on the spot. I had to stop myself from breaking into a grin.

"I'm important to you?" I raised my brows, biting hard onto my lip.

He lifted his thumb to my mouth and pinched my lip from between my teeth. He rested the pad of his thumb on the newly swollen peak in the middle of my lip.

"Very important," he hummed. His grey eyes hardened and intensified as he stared at me. His tongue darted across his mouth, an act that brought spasms to the deepest part of my abdomen. "Now, how about that glass of wine?"

"Yes, please," I gulped.

He smirked and dropped his hand, turning away from me slightly. He leant over the coffee table and poured me a glass from the bottle. He offered it to me and then stepped over a table on the other side of the cabin. He picked up a bottle full of water and emptied it into his glass.

"You're not drinking?" I noticed. He shook his head.

"I'm driving. I intend on returning you home in one piece later this evening." He approached me again, holding out his glass and chinking it with mine. "Are you hungry?"

"Very," I grinned and took a sip from my glass. The wine was fresh and smooth. "Did Mrs Jones cook for us?"

"I ordered something from a restaurant nearby," he explained. "I just need to warm up the plates. I'll deal with dinner, why don't you sort out some music?" he reached around himself and pulled his iPhone from his back pocket. "It's already synced with the sound system. You just need to press 'play'."

I took his phone and stared after him as he darted out of the cabin. I heard him mill around in the kitchen, unwrapping something. I frowned as I looked down at the phone, waking the screen to find it locked. Password protected.

"Um, Christian?" I called out.

"Yes?" he shouted.

"You need to put in your password," I said, moving into the kitchen. I stood in the doorway. He was hovering over an industrial sized microwave, several plates rotating inside. The smell was extraordinary.

Christian glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "Anastasia."

"What?"

"The password," he raised his brows at me. "It's your name: Anastasia."

I was taken aback at his casual response. He continued about his task, turning his chin away from me again.

I typed in my name and the screen unlocked, revealing a multitude of apps. I tapped the music icon and started to filter through the extensive list. I widened my eyes at the eccentric mix of music. He must have a copy of every song known to man. Everything from Mozart to Maroon 5. Some of the songs were unfamiliar to me, some of them brought a smile to my face, but one stood out the most. I hit play and grinned as the haunting introduction gave way to Nat King Cole's remarkable voice.

Christian stood still, his back to me for several minutes, his spine straightening as he heard the first echoes of _When I Fall in Love_. His head tilted slightly and then he finally spun to face me.

"This is my favourite song," I smiled. "I've loved it since I was a little girl."

"Then you have excellent taste in music, Miss Steele." He returned my smile. His eyes twinkled under the spotlights overhead.

"I'm glad you think so, Mr Grey," I nodded. I walked across the room towards him, stopping just ahead of his front. I rested my hand on his arm and lifted onto my toes. I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips to his. "I've been looking forward to this all day."

"Dinner or the kiss?" his lips vibrated against mine.

"Definitely the kiss," I whispered. "Always the kiss."

* * *

I plumped up the pillow underneath my head and wriggled on the spot, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't too difficult: Christian had strewn several blankets and pillows on the deck, my comfort his main priority.

We made small talk over dinner, chatting about anything and everything, continuing our conversation from the car. It was relaxing and easy, hearing him talk about work and what drives him, the things he enjoys to do in his spare time. It turns out that he does free-fall from the sky – who knew? _Gliding._

He smiled earnestly at my questions, humouring me, perhaps even enjoying it. It was as if the sea air had swept away the clouds in his mind. He was freer than before and I think I really like this side to him.

Once we had cleared our plates, he suggested we head back onto the foredeck and enjoy the crisp night. The stars had paid us a visit; it would be rude to ignore them. Out on the water, the air had chilled significantly, but it was nothing one of the blankets couldn't erase. I pulled it up to my chin and nuzzled down.

"Happy?" Christian asked, suddenly appearing over me, his feet at my head. "Are you cold?"

I gazed up at him and smiled. He looked just as beautiful upside-down.

"I'm fine," I shook my head. He returned my smile and came to my right side, lowering himself down next to me. He wriggled as I had, until he was perfectly parallel to me, our heads at the same height for once. "You really should have let me help tidy up."

He shook his head, bringing one arm up underneath it. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll pay someone to clean up later… There's still some wine left in the bottle."

"I think I've had enough wine," I shook my head. He stuck to water all evening, leaving the bottle of white in my possession. I can feel my head growing fuzzy, my stomach warm and bubbling. "Do you want to get under my blanket?" I asked, lifting one corner.

"Is that a euphemism?" he tilted his head towards me and winked.

I rolled my eyes and shuffled closer to his body, shrouding the excess blanket around his front. He took over the task, gently shooing away my hands. He covered his chest and lay his arms down at his sides. His eyes, darker and rounder in the moonlight, gazed up at the sky, staring at all and nothing.

"Dinner was lovely, thank you." I whispered. I turned onto my side to face him. The stars are as clear as day and twinkling proudly above us, but my attention was stolen the second he came back to me. From his copper tinged hair to his perfectly sculpted lips, perfection at every angle. His expression didn't shift, so I repeated myself. "I wasn't really expecting any of this, you know. It's all very…"

"Forced?" he offered. If I was looking at him squarely, I might guess that a grimace had developed upon his face. But from this position all I can see is his chiselled, undisturbed profile.

"I was going to say romantic," I shook my head. I uncurled my hand from under the blanket and reached for his, sliding my fingers down the length of his arm. "A very romantic first date."

I pushed my fingers between the gaps of his and tucked them into his palm. He clenched his fist a few times.

"I'll do anything to make this work," he uttered in a deep, low voice. I could feel the vibration of his tone, a swell of chills burying into my chest. "I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?" I asked quietly. He shrugged his shoulder.

"Normal," he inhaled a deep breath. "Usually, all I care about is getting a woman to finalise the contract and then getting her into my playroom as quickly as possible. I felt like that when I first met you, but now… why are you different? Why are you making me feel like I need more?" he asked, arching his neck my way. The hunger in his eyes made me squirm.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I've been asking myself the same question."

"It's like I'm fighting against everything I know, all because I want to keep you. I _need_ you," he stressed. "The thought of not having you makes me angry… but the thought of not dominating you, not having you as my submissive and having those boundaries is fucking terrifying."

"You want more but you don't know how – you don't know what's going to happen and that scares you," I surmised.

He nodded. "I need control. I need structure. I need to know what's ahead of us."

"That's how I feel, but in reverse. Kinda," I frowned. Christian studied my face for a second, rolling onto his side also. "I am genuinely curious about your lifestyle. I'm not just saying that. I'm not repulsed by it, I've done some research and what I've read so far hasn't scared me off. I am worried about what it entails though, but that's the same for you about traditional stuff, right?" I asked. He nodded again. "We're both in the same position here. At least we have that much in common."

That brought a small smile to his lips.

"The way I see it," I continued, shuffling a tad closer to him. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "We've hit a fork in the road. You wanna go left and I'm saying right. You always go left, you know what's down there, what happens on the other side. From where I'm sitting, it's just dark and I feel like if I go down that route I might end up in a place I'm not comfortable… I've never been right but I know what's down there."

"I don't," his voice cracked. "If I'm left and you're right, what do we do? We can't just stand still, otherwise this is over before it's even begun."

"What if left or right isn't our only option?" I suggested, shaking my head. "In the blog, the submissive said that he has a healthy relationship that combines both vanilla and S&amp;M. He said it's possible to have your cake and eat it… why don't we just do that? Why don't we make our own damned road? Straight down the middle."

"Sounds like a lot of hard work," he pursed his lips. "And risky. There's no saying it'll work."

"I think you're worth the risk," I chewed on my lip, realising just how cheesy that sounded. "I'm willing to try if you are."

I held out my hand to him, palm open and fingers splayed.

He hesitated, staring down at my hand. With his forefinger, he traced the lines on my palm, before finally placing his hand on top of mine. His is so much bigger than mine, so much warmer too.

"I'm starting to wonder if you will be the greatest risk I will ever take," he muttered.

"For the good, hopefully," I curled my fingers around his. "Are you with me?"

"Whatever it takes," he nodded without question.

He eased forward on his shoulder and smacked his mouth to mine, his tongue pushing quickly between my lips. His hand skirted up my stomach, but didn't rise above the hem of my bra. His lips were passionate and insatiable, but everything else was chaste. The polarising combination only added to the sensation exploding through my pelvis.

* * *

Christian drew the car to a stop, pulling up at the sidewalk. He parked a few minutes from my apartment, so as not to draw attention. I expected to say our goodbyes in the car but, instead, he stepped out and walked with me. He held my hand on the short walk to my building, his thumb rubbing circles over mine.

"Is your roommate home?" he asked, a step behind me as I moved up to the door.

"Yeah, but she should be in bed by now." I dipped my hand into my purse and rummaged for my keys. "I can check… If she's asleep, you could come –"

"I wasn't asking for an invite," he shut me off with a genuine smile. "Tonight wasn't about sex, Ana. I'm not waiting for you to ask me in for coffee."

I smiled at hearing that. As much as I want to rip his clothes off and pull him to the ground right here, I appreciate and deeply value his respect for me. He doesn't want me to think he's using me for sex - that every time he does something nice I have to take off my clothes as a way of thanking him.

I examined his face for a moment, our hands still linked and difficult to separate. I didn't want to let go. But I had a feeling that he would as soon as I told him about Kate.

"What's wrong?" he asked, narrowing his gaze. "Something's on your mind. What is it?"

"There's something I have to tell you," I blew out in a slow breath. I gripped his hand. "And I really don't want you to freak out over this. Please, just listen to me?"

He didn't reply. I gulped.

"I've spoken to my roommate about us," I said the words slowly, waiting for the mist to coat his eyes. He sniffed hard. "I haven't mentioned you or talked about any of the other stuff... all Kate knows is that I'm dating someone who works at the club, another bartender, and that things have to remain secret because my boss hates mixing business with pleasure. That's it."

"You've spoken about me before," he reminded me, a blank expression engulfing him. His hand was still in mine. "Is she likely to make the connection between us?"

I shook my head. "I haven't spoken about you since that first time. As far as she's concerned, you backed off and I'm seeing someone new… I had to talk to her – not only because it was driving a wedge in our friendship, but also because I needed to talk to my best friend. You must understand that?"

His jaw tensed. "No. I don't."

"Don't you have that one friend you tell everything to?"

He shook his head. "I don't do friendships. I don't have any friends."

My heart clenched. In the depths of his eyes, I saw sadness in admitting that fact. He sniffed hard again and dropped his eyes, blinking slowly.

"Please don't mention my name," he pleaded. "Just as long as you're working at Maîtrise. When you stop working there, it'll be different. I just can't risk being associated with the club in any way, shape or form."

"I understand that," I nodded. I waited for his gaze to lift to meet mine again. "I know it bugs you, but I need the freedom to speak to her."

"I'm not trying to be an asshole," he shook his head. His eyes reached mine. "Accept my offer to get you another job. I can have it sorted by the time you wake up in the morning."

"No," I shook my head. "You already got me one job."

_And look at where that's got us…_

"Thanks for the offer, but no," I said firmly. "I will find another job by myself. Something will come up soon, I'm sure of it."

He didn't pursue the conversation any further. He just nodded, but I knew he was thinking of ways to change my mind.

I stepped forward and brought myself nose-to-nose with him. I settled my lips over his, pecking lightly at his mouth.

"I had a wonderful night," I assured him.

"Me too," he breathed. "Let's meet up tomorrow. I'm fairly busy for the rest of the week, but we can do lunch tomorrow."

"Okay," I smiled, offering another kiss to him. "Text me a time and place… Are you sure you don't want to come in?"

"It's for the best," he nodded. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

He kissed me once more and then tore himself from me. He took a step back and allowed me to head inside.

I closed the door and raced upstairs, heading straight for the big window that looks down onto the street. He was still standing at the foot of the path, staring at the door. After a few seconds he nodded, fisted his hand into his pocket and turned away, heading back to the SUV at the end of the street.

"Goodnight, Christian." I whispered, pressing my hand against the window glass.

* * *

When I woke up the following morning, I still had a huge grin on my face.

I woke early to have breakfast with Kate. I gave her a short summary of my night with Christian, making up the parts that I couldn't share. I know Christian isn't fully supportive of my decision to speak about our 'relationship' with Kate, but it is a huge relief to finally share my excitement with someone. She gets how I feel, understands how momentous this is for me.

After Kate left for work, I showered and cleaned up the apartment. I shoved my headphones into my cell and blasted the music I downloaded onto it, dancing away to my playlist of The Rolling Stones. I was midway through vacuuming and _Undercover of the Night_ when the music cut out and was replaced with a notification sound. With a slight grimace, I yanked my cell from my pocket and pulled up the email.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Date: 03/13/2012 09:31**

**Subject: Lunch**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

Slight change of plans – can't make lunch, back-to-back meetings all day. I can free up an hour if you want to come here? I'll arrange for someone to grab food for you.

C x

Christian Grey

Pissed Off and Busy CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I sniggered at his signature. About an hour after he dropped me off last night, he sent me a goodnight text to confirm lunch for today. We arranged to meet in a secluded restaurant upstate.

I tapped out my reply and asked for directions to his office. His response came within minutes.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Date: 03/13/2012 09:39**

**Subject: Lunch**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

Great – directions in the above link. Come at 1pm.

We will discuss the contract as arranged. Hopefully we will be able to come to an agreement. Bring your notes and questions – I think it might be good if you create your own contract, list what you would like/want/need.

C x

Christian Grey

Slightly less pissed off CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Date: 03/13/2012 09:43**

**Subject: Lunch**

**To: Christian Grey**

Thank you. I'll be there for one o'clock. :-)

Quick question – Are we signing contracts or are they just for reference? Are they legally binding?

Ana x

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Date: 03/13/2012 09:45**

**Subject: Lunch**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

That's more than just a 'quick' question. But in short – No. Not legally binding, but just a guide for both of us. It helps set and affirm boundaries. It's what I'm used to. We don't have to sign them, but we both need to know each other's limits.

See you at 1pm.

C x

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I closed down the app and leaned back against the couch, pressing my phone to my lips.

What do I expect from this relationship? That's pretty hard to answer, considering I've never had a relationship and have absolutely no scope for comparison.

I left the vacuum on the floor and stepped over to the dining table, where I'd left my notepad and pens. I tore off the page I'd scribbled on and popped the cap on my pen.

_My Contract_

I jotted down everything that came into my head – what I'd like to happen between us, what I don't want to happen. Surprisingly, the page was full before I'd even come up for air.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Reds77** – In a word? Yes. Ana doesn't want to rely on anyone, it's not in her character. She is really independent, much like Christian. It's why they clash. As for her wanting to tell Kate, it's because Ana wants to talk to someone about what's going on. This is her first relationship, it's new to her, she doesn't know what to think or do next. She needs a friend. Hope that explains it a little better. Thank you! Much Love x

**Sophiedog22** – Thank you! Glad you liked it. Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Julia** – Thank you! That's wonderful to hear. I'm really glad that you liked it! Much Love x

**SuzB** – I totally agree with you; the sooner Ana is away from the club, the better. She will get out, I promise, but there's some important stuff that needs to happen first! Thank you! I'm glad you're still enjoying it. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Friends,**

**I hope you're all well and enjoying slightly warmer weather... Spring has sprung! Finally! My favourite season of all.**

**Hoping you enjoy this chapter - CONTRACT TIME! :) Important note: Christian's contract is the same as that in the original trilogy! I haven't included it in its entirety because this is already a super long chapter. I've sure you will be able to follow along without the full contract added. Ana's contract has been included, though. **

**Looking forward to hearing your thoughts! Thank you for reading!**

**Much Love, **

**Chelsea x**

* * *

Grey Enterprises Holdings was truly a Goliath of a building. It spiralled up into the clouds, its windows tinged blue and reflecting the crystal clear sky. Even before I could read the sign outside its doors, I knew it was Christian's building. It dominated all of the other buildings in the vicinity, both intimidating and beautifully designed, much like the man himself.

I turned off the main street and headed for the parking lot at the rear of the building, as per Christian's instructions. I joined the line of cars waiting to get in, feeling somewhat daunted by the variety of shiny, brand new vehicles in front of me. Wanda stood out like a sore thumb. I approached the booth and the man in a fluorescent jacket, waving me down with a scowl over his face.

"Do you have any ID, Miss?" he asked in a thick Southern accent. He bent over and stared at me through my window. He had one hand on his hip, reaching for his radio.

"Um, yeah," I nodded, nervously. I delved into my purse and grabbed my wallet. I picked out my license and handed it over.

"Visitor or staff?" he asked, snatching my license away.

"Visitor."

"One minute, Miss." He walked away with a swagger in his step, heading back to his booth. He was gone for a few minutes, a move that angered the person behind me. I think they were only seconds away from beeping their horn.

Upon his return, the security guy's demeanour had changed drastically. His spine had stiffened, his pace quickening. He leaned towards my window again, pushing my license back to me.

"I'm sorry for the mix-up, Miss Steele." He apologised, shaking his head. "Please head straight down towards the building, then turn left. Mr Grey's spot is empty. He's given permission for you to park there."

"Oh, okay," I took my licence and dropped it back into my purse. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Miss. I am sorry for the delay," he nodded and waved his hand towards the booth. The barrier lifted and I was able to drive through.

I followed his directions, scanning all around as I looked for Christian's bay. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to find that his parking spot was isolated and at the entrance. Priority spacing for the boss. I pulled into the spot and unbuckled my seatbelt. It felt like a great injustice parking in his bay, especially with Wanda looking so battered and timeworn.

Grabbing my purse, I climbed out of the car and locked up. I was in the middle of smoothing down my dress when someone called my name. I jumped and spun quickly to see who was there, my heart thumping against my ribs.

"Miss Steele?" an immaculately dressed woman stood with her hands linked in front of her. She was wearing a light grey skirt-suit, a white silk tie at her neck. "Anastasia Steele?" she repeated, arching her brow.

"Yes," I nodded. I steadied myself and then took a step forward, holding my hand out to her. She accepted, but gave only a quick interaction before she pulled her hand back.

"I'm Mr Grey's assistant," she explained. "He asked that I come down and meet you."

"Oh there was no need for that," I assured her, unconvincingly. "I'm sure I could have found my way around."

"Of course," she said, blankly. She turned towards the doors. "Shall we?"

I followed her into the building, struggling to keep up with her long strides. We had to pass through a metal detector and turnstiles before we made it to the elevators at the far side of the room. A steady stream of suits passed by me, rushing towards the already overcrowded elevators. I didn't relish the idea of cramming inside with them.

"This way," the assistant called. I glanced in the direction of her voice. She was standing to my left, near a small metal door. "This is Mr Grey's private elevator."

"Right," I sighed. _Of course he has a private elevator_…

The assistant swiped her card against the scanner on the wall and the doors immediately slid open. She allowed me to step inside first. She turned her back on me, standing a foot in front. Her hair, brilliantly blonde, was sleek and tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was slender and perfectly in proportion.

"This way," she beckoned as the elevator pinged and the doors popped open once again.

We exited onto the twenty-first floor, home to Christian's office, three boardrooms, an expansive lobby area and four smaller offices for his deputies. I learned all of this from a sign on the wall. The assistant was mute as we walked. The elevators were situated away from the main floor, behind polished glass doors. If I was alone, I have no doubts that I would have walked straight into them, they are that shiny.

"Olivia, put a call through to two-eighteen, get an update on the meeting in progress," the assistant ordered. I stepped out of her shadow and looked around. Ahead of us there was a long white reception desk, with two blonde haired girls sitting behind it. One of them nodded.

The lobby area was gleaming white, marbled all around, and echoed the sounds of keyboard tapping, phones ringing and subdued whispers. We walked around a set of plush couches and I expected to be told to sit down, but the assistant continued on. She moved straight down towards the end of the walkway, to a pair of large walnut coloured doors.

"I will check to see how long Mr Grey will be," she smiled, holding one of the doors open. "In the meantime, please take a seat in his office."

"Are you sure?" I frowned.

She nodded. "Mr Grey has insisted on it. I have laid out refreshments, so help yourself. If you need anything else, please just let me know. I will be out here."

"Um, thank you…" I fished for her name. She wasn't wearing a badge.

"Andrea," she flicked her head up and down, then turned away. She sashayed back down towards the reception desk, leaving me alone on the precipice of Christian's office.

I wasn't quite sure what I expected Christian's office to look like, but I really wasn't anticipating what I found. It was three times larger than I imagined, perhaps the whole size of my apartment. Maybe even bigger. The white and marble theme transcended into here too, with accents of dark blue and earthy tones. There was a large meeting table ahead of me, a dozen or so chairs around it. I stepped nearer and examined the selection on the table: a three-tier stand of finger sandwiches and cakes, as well as everything needed to make tea and coffee. I stole a sandwich and took a quick bite. Tuna and cucumber. Delicious.

Moving away from the table, I let my eyes fall over the rest of the office. The exterior wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, the heart of Seattle proudly on display. It reminded me of the windows in Christian's apartment. I could spot Escala in the background, not too far away. The desk, mahogany, sat with its back to the windows. I walked around his chair, fingering everything in sight. There were newspapers, spreadsheet print-outs and files covering the surface of the desk, along with a laptop, phone and a transparent lamp. Opposite the desk, two white cubed chairs faced me, looking brand new, as if no one had ever sat in them.

"Does one man really need this much space?" I whispered to myself as I moved out from around the desk and over to a series of pictures on the wall.

I examined them more closely, realising that they are the only pieces of artwork in the room. There were several dozen small images pinned to the wall, abstract and detailed, some landscapes, some undecipherable. On closer inspection, I realised they were paintings. I could have lost myself in them, if only the door hadn't have swung open in that moment.

"You're here," Christian huffed. I turned sharply on my heel, startled by his arrival. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a navy tie. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long," I shook my head. I looked down at my sandwich. "I couldn't resist, sorry."

"If you're hungry, never wait for someone else," he said mindlessly. He paced quickly to his desk and threw down the wad of papers he was holding, before shrugging off his jacket. "What are you doing over there?"

"Just admiring the pictures," I smiled, giving one last look to the wall. "I like them."

"They're Trouton," he nodded. "She's one of my favourite artists. I have some larger pieces of hers in my apartment. I'll point them out to you the next time you come over."

"I'd like that," I agreed, leaving the Trouton wall. I approached him with the intent of kissing him, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him dearly, but I came to a stop at the corner of his desk. His expression was unreadable, firm and tense. "Um, thanks for letting security know I was coming. The guy wouldn't have let me in otherwise!"

"No one gets in without authorisation," he explained. "I like to keep tabs on who comes in and out. You would be surprised at the number of paparazzi and reporters who have tried to sneak in over the years."

"You're a popular man," I smiled. It did little to soften his face. "Your assistant said you were in a meeting?"

"Quarterly discussion surrounding local investments and franchise," the words rolled off his tongue with such ease. My eyes widened. "It was boring, but necessary… Now, from one meeting to another. Are you ready to discuss the terms and conditions of my contract?"

_Straight to business_, I noticed. Here, he isn't Christian. He's Mr Grey, CEO.

He frowned at me, his eyes falling down the length of my body. "Didn't Andrea offer to take your jacket?"

I looked down at my arms and shook my head. "No, but it's okay."

He hummed a response and quickly made his way towards me. He stood behind me, his fingers reaching up to the collar of my denim jacket. Slowly, he peeled the material down my arms, inching closer. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, having tied my hair back before I left home. Goosebumps tripped over my skin as he pressed a kiss just behind my right ear. His hands rested on my hips, gently pulling me backwards into his chest.

"I love this dress on you," he murmured.

"It's new," I whispered. "I should technically thank you for it. I bought it with the money you gave me, when I started working at the club."

He took my ear lobe between his lips. His fingers slid around my stomach, pressing deep into the material of my dress. Kate helped me choose it. I wanted to pick some items that would work for day and night, yet still suit me and my style. I wanted to feel comfortable and this dress ticked all the boxes. It's a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, black with a floral detail. It looks like a two-piece: the top, plain, cuts into a deep V at my bust with a tie sitting at my left hip; the skirt is slightly flared, small multi-coloured flowers spaced out, in violet, saffron, crimson, topaz. I paired it with my Maîtrise Louboutin's.

"You look incredible," he breathed. "I could take you right here, right now… but first, we need to talk contracts. Did you write your own?"

I nodded and steadied myself, licking my lips.

"Good girl," he pressed another kiss behind my ear.

"It's not as professional as yours. It's handwritten."

His hands slipped away and he stepped out from behind me, heading straight for the meeting table. I followed, taking a seat in the chair he pulled out for me. He sat two chairs down.

"You could have written it on a napkin and I wouldn't care," he shook his head. "It's important that I know what you want and expect from me, that's all. Now, what do you want to discuss first?"

"Your contract," I said after a second's pause. "Yours is a lot longer than mine. I have a lot of things I want to address."

He nodded and waited for me to gather my things. From inside my purse I pulled out all of my notes, along with my copy of his contract. He twitched, his fingers rapping against something in front of him. I looked over and spotted his own copy of the contract, a fountain pen already in his right hand.

I hesitated for a moment, not really knowing where to start. I searched for the first page of the contract, running my fingers down the page until I came to my first notation.

"On a general note," I started, looking up at him. His pen was poised over his copy. "If we do this – your stuff, I mean – does that make me your submissive?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Exclusively? Will I _only_ be your submissive?"

"No," he said curtly. "You already expressed your wishes to combine my preferences with yours. I share those wishes, Ana, but I would expect that when we are on my time you will dedicate yourself to being my submissive in every way."

I made a rash note of that on the side of the page, my handwriting hardly intelligible. "I was asking because that kind of creeps into my contract."

"Go on?"

"I'm proposing that we divide whatever time we have fifty-fifty," I licked my lips, twirling my pen in a circle. "Keep things equal and on a level playing field. Half the time we do things you like, then the other half is spent doing the kind of stuff that I'm interested in."

"Sounds fair," he agreed. From underneath his contract, he pulled out a blank notepad and began writing down my point. At the top of the page he wrote 'Vanilla Contract'. "How would we organise this? Alternating days, weekends?"

"As and when?" I shrugged. He gave me a stony look, his grey eyes narrowing. "You said all of this is about trust. Let's trust each other not to take advantage."

I sensed that he didn't appreciate this suggestion, but he wrote it down anyway. I know from reading his contract that he is a black or white personality. He wants – _needs_ – everything to be regimented. He reminds me of Ray, his background in the military means that he prefers everything to be clear cut and simple. I think they would get along, should they meet.

"Okay," he muttered, his throat bobbing as he gulped. "What's next?"

I scanned my eyes down the page. "Roles," I fingered the word, waiting for him to locate it on his copy. "Number 8… The submissive can terminate the contract if the dominant fails to comply to the rules agreed between both parties. Is this the only way the contract can be ended?"

"No," he shook his head. His eyes burned into mine as he spoke, a steely gaze that had the power to both intimidate and arouse me. "If a submissive wants to break the contract, with good reason, then it can be terminated with immediate effect."

"What do you determine as 'with good reason'?"

He sighed under his breath and hunched forward, crossing both arms on the table. "If you came to me and said you were unhappy with this whole arrangement, we would stop and go our separate ways. I'm a very selfish man, but I'm not cruel. I wouldn't make you fulfil the whole term if it would cause you distress."

I smiled at hearing that. "That works for me, too."

"Thank you," he nodded. He glanced at the papers in front of me, encouraging me to continue.

"Number 9. The submissive must serve and obey in all things, shall offer the dominant whatever pleasure he may require without hesitation, and will accept whatever punishment he sees fit?" I read, squinting my eyes. He just nodded. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. A submissive doesn't need to think, she just does whatever the dominant tells her to do," he said. "Hesitation means thinking, usually overthinking. By the very nature of being a submissive, you forgo control and submit yourself to your partner. All the submissive needs to think about is pleasing the dominant."

"Sounds arbitrary and sexist," I countered.

"Remember that a vast majority of submissives are men," he returned with an arched brow.

I shrugged at him. "I don't like the word 'obey'. I would prefer if it just read 'follow'."

He scratched out the word on his page and wrote 'follow' above it. "Done."

"I don't understand what it means by, 'accept whatever punishment'."

"It depends on what misdemeanour the submissive commits," he shook his head. "The punishment could vary from spanking or caning."

"And you make the decision about which it is?"

"Yes."

"Do you warn your submissive before you punish her?"

"Yes. Always." He said without pause. "You would have the opportunity to safeword and stop me from touching you."

I made a note of that before moving on. "Availability… Number 12. I must make myself available to you from Friday evening through Sunday afternoon? That won't work for me, not with the hours I do at the club."

"Okay," he nodded and amended the point, crossing through the section. "How about we agree to see each other a minimum of three days a week, day to be determined based on your shifts at the club?"

"Agreed," I nodded. "Dominant… Number 15.2. You can use my body at any time and in any manner you deem fit? I'm not comfortable with the idea of becoming your glorified human sex toy."

"Your pleasure is as equally important, if not more so, than my own." He reminded me. "You wouldn't be short-changed in this deal, Ana. I can assure you of that. Have you felt used so far?"

I shook my head and licked my lips again. "No, quite the opposite." He has always made sure I am pleasured, that I climax before him, that I am okay. He's very protective in that way.

"Good," he nodded. "Next?"

"15.8… If I become sick, you must care for me? What does that mean, exactly?"

"I'll arrange medical treatment for you, in the case of sickness or injury," he explained curtly. "Your health and well-being is paramount to me. Both physically and mentally."

I scribbled that down next to my highlighter mark. "15.10. 'Loaning submissives'? Is that a real thing, do people really do that?"

"Yes. It's fairly common in the community."

"Wow…" I whistled.

"I'm monogamous," he clarified. "I expect that, too."

I nodded. I would never cheat on someone. I know a lot of people probably say that to themselves, but I know for sure. I saw what happened to my mother and Ray's marriage when she cheated. It ended up destroying them both.

"Submissive," I nodded. "15.13. I will become your property?"

"Not literally." He shook his head. "It links with your previous point, about being monogamous."

"Okay... Maybe you should link those together then? It would save confusion."

He smirked at me. "I've never had a submissive be confused by that," he laughed. "But I'll remember to have that amended."

I held back my own laughter. His chuckle is infectious, more so because it is so rare to hear it. "15.17. Not really a question. I just wanted to tell you that I am going to visit a doctor about contraception. Kate already recommended that I see her OB-GYN. I booked an appointment for tomorrow afternoon."

"Good. I'm happy to cover your medical bills," he offered.

"I have insurance," I shook my head. "15.22. I can't look you in the eyes?"

"During play," he nodded his head once. "It maintains boundaries and submission, in the same way that I will require you to call me 'sir'."

"That was my next point," I smiled. "So I can still call you Christian?"

"Yes."

"But I can't touch you, as per 15.24?"

He shook his head. I waited for him to elaborate on it, as he has with other questions, but he didn't. He remained still and stared me out, eyeballing me to continue. I circled that number. I want to come back to that at some point. I'm not going to let him off that easily.

"Safewords," I said. "Red and Yellow. Are they the words we will use?"

"Unless you wish to change them," he shrugged. I shook my head. "Red and Yellow it is, then."

I turned over the page, now moving onto the appendixes. He followed suit and selected the correct page.

"Rules," I sighed. This is the section that confuses me the most. When I thought he wanted control, I thought he just meant sexually, not in _all_ things. I hardly took a breath as I reeled off my concerns. "Sleep. You can't force me to sleep for eight hours a time, unless you plan on drugging me, which I'm fairly certain is illegal. I sleep until I wake up. I don't keep tabs on it. And it's the same with food. I eat when I'm hungry… and you forbid snacking, unless it's a piece of fruit? No, that's not going to work. If I want a candy bar, I'm going to eat a candy bar. I get that you're some kind of health freak – don't even get me started on the exercise thing, because that's not going to happen – but you can't seriously expect me to follow these rules? Or anyone for that matter?"

His jaw twitched and he sniffed hard. Cocking his head to the side, he parted his lips slowly. "I don't want you to fall asleep on me. Nor do I want you to pass out from hunger. Like I said before, your well-being is paramount. I need to make sure that you will remember to take care of yourself."

"I'm a twenty-two-year-old woman, I'm highly capable of taking care of myself." I countered with an unfamiliar harshness to my voice. It caused him to jolt his head back, his eyes narrowing at me. "I'm not going to report back to you every day with a list of what I've eaten, how much I've slept, or whether I've been to a gym."

I wasn't budging on that one and I think he realised that, too. He took his pen and circled the whole top section of Appendix 1.

"I'm not going to visit a salon just because you tell me to, either." I continued. He didn't respond to that. He just drew a separate circle around the point about hygiene. "But I will agree to your rule on safety. I don't smoke, I've never even tried it. I've never taken drugs, either."

"What about drinking?" he asked, quietly. I shook my head.

"I have the occasional drink, but I've only ever been drunk once. I didn't like the feeling of it. I didn't like feeling… _out of control_."

His brows raised slightly and he mumbled to himself, "Welcome to my world." I don't think he thought I could hear him.

"Appendix 2," he turned the page again, determined to move conversation along. "Hard limits. Are these all okay with you?"

"Yes," I nodded. He ticked the side of the list. He moved onto Appendix 3. "Soft limits. Are you open to masturbation?"

"Does it include solo and mutual?" I asked. He nodded. "Yes, that's fine."

"Are you willing to perform oral sex and swallow semen?"

I nodded. "I'm willing to try. I've never done that before, though."

He made a squiggle at the side of those points. "We've already had vaginal intercourse, so I'll assume you're okay with that."

"I am," I confirmed. "Anal, on the other hand. That's a no. And fisting? I don't even want to know what that is."

"Fisting I can concede to," he tilted his head. "But I want you to try anal. It can be extremely pleasurable. Just as much as vaginal intercourse."

I narrowed my eyes. "Do you know that from personal experience?"

"Anal? Yes," he nodded, swiftly. "And before you ask, no I haven't had sex with a man. It was a very intense experience with my domme, when I was younger. I think you would enjoy it."

"I don't think I would," I shook my head, defiantly. He raised his eyes to mine and glared at me.

"We wouldn't jump straight into it," he offered. "Your ass would need training first. We would start small, with fingers. Be open to trying it, please? If we try it and you don't like it, we won't do it again."

I hesitated for a moment. That seems like a reasonable offer, but the idea still doesn't sit well with me. Damn it, I probably won't be sitting well if he wants to shove things into my butt!

I sighed, taking a deep breath. I nodded my head. "I can safeword at any time?"

He nodded. "Any time you feel uncomfortable."

"Okay."

"Okay? You don't sound convinced," he observed. He straightened his shoulders, squaring them up. "I'm not going to lie to you, Ana. It can be painful, but I know what I'm doing. I'm not some high school prick who doesn't give a fuck about your feelings. I don't want to hurt you."

I believed him when he said that.

"Sex toys," he read. "Vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, anal beads."

"Within reason," I held up my hand. "I want to see and hold everything first."

"Done," he nodded and ticked his list again. "I take it that applies to all of this, then? Bondage?"

"I'm not sold on the idea of being tied down, but I might be open to it if I can see what it is you want to do first," I uttered. "Would I be able to get out of it, if I need to?"

"On your own, no," he shook his head. "But again, all you need to do is say your safeword. As soon as you say it, I will stop and untie you. I can release you within seconds, if I need to."

I nodded. That sounds less daunting. "I don't mind the idea of being blindfolded. I'm okay with that."

"Good. What about gagging?"

"No," I shook my head. "I don't want anything in my mouth."

"That might make oral sex difficult," he quipped with a smirk. I rolled my lips inward. "Okay. No gagging… Do you have any scope of reference when it comes to pain?"

He was reading off the bottom of the page, where there is a scale of 1-5 laid out. It's to gauge how much his submissive enjoys receiving punishments.

"None," I shook my head.

"You were never physically punished as a child? Spanked?" he asked. I shook my head again. "Okay. We'll start slow and gentle. If you can handle it, we'll progress to something stronger."

"What's the worst thing you can do?" I asked. "What causes the most pain?"

"Belts, whips, canes," he pursed his lips as he spoke. "They can be extremely painful."

"You can scratch them off your list," I nodded to the paper. He agreed without hesitation. "I want to see the stuff you use, before we do anything. It's one of my points in the contract I wrote."

He lifted his head and pushed aside his contract. "Have we finished with mine now, then?" I nodded. "Do you just have the one copy of yours?"

"Erm, yeah, sorry," I chewed on my lip. "I didn't think to make a copy."

"I'll copy it before you leave," he nodded, brushing it off. "Let's hear it then."

I picked up the scrap of paper and eyed it for a moment, before handing it over to him. "It might be easier for you to just read it."

He accepted the page and took several moments to scan over it, his eyes lingering over some places longer than others. It had taken hardly any time at all to write it, and I think I incorporated everything I need from him.

* * *

_My Contract_

_1\. __I want us to divide our time fifty-fifty, to ensure that neither of us will be coerced or screwed over. It's important that we keep things equal, regardless of how ironic this seems, considering your preferences. _

_2\. __In terms of the stuff I want to do when we are on my time, I'm a traditionalist and simple at heart. I want to go on dates with you. Real dates. I want to go to dinner, like last night. I want to watch movies, binge watch TV shows. Simple, inexpensive things. _

_3\. __I want to be able to spend time in your playroom – not in a sexual way. I want to be able to familiarise myself with the room, see what you have in there. I don't want to be shocked, confused or scared by anything when we get around to the sex part of this. I want permission to veto anything that I don't like the look of. I want to be able to ask any questions I have, whether it's in person or via email, text or call. And for you to answer it honestly – not sugar coated because you think I can't handle the truth._

_4\. __I want to learn more about Christian Grey. You've already admitted that you're a very private man and I've realised that, actually, I don't know much about you. We've spent a lot of time talking about me, but you haven't given up any information about yourself. This doesn't seem fair. I'm not going to sell a story about what your favourite colour socks are – I just want to know who Christian is, what he likes or dislikes._

_5\. __(We've technically already discussed this, BUT…) I want permission to tell people that I'm seeing someone. I promise to leave your name out of the mix, but I don't want to hide the fact that I'm "dating" someone very special – someone who I like very much. I don't want to feel ashamed of this, like this is some kind of dirty little secret._

_6\. __I suggest that we reduce the trial period of this arrangement. In your contract you state that, at first, the arrangement is for three months. Three months is just too long, especially considering what we are trying to do here. I think we should settle on thirty days. If we can't make it work or we can't see a chance of this working after thirty days, then we just cut our losses and go our separate ways. I think if we continue this for the amount of time you propose, we both run the risk of becoming too invested – it could make things worse if it doesn't work out between us, harder to let go._

_7\. __No more expensive gifts or money. I am very grateful for what you have done for me so far. It was kind of you to pay for my car repairs – I will admit that I may not have been able to afford them myself. And I appreciate you buying me a new phone, but it has to stop. I don't like charity or being a freeloader. I'm not interested in your money or what I can get from you. I don't need big, expensive gifts. I've never liked it. I'm happy with a candy bar and a Pepsi, not caviar and champagne. _

_8\. __Please, stop with the constant badgering about me finding a new job. I get the message, really I do. I don't want to work at the club any longer than necessary. Trust me. But, at the same time, I don't want to get another job because of who I'm having sex with. I want to get a job based on merit and because I'm the best candidate. Friendly advice is welcome, but that's all._

_9\. __I want to be able to put a label on this. So far we have avoided this, probably because we're in a kind of limbo, but I need to know what this is. Are we in a relationship? Are we dating each other? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?_

* * *

Christian blew out a long breath as his eyes trailed off to the bottom of the page. He didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. I don't know what I was expecting him to do. Tear up the piece of paper and tell me to start over? The longer it took him to speak, the worse my conclusions became.

"Well?" I shook my head at him. "The suspense is killing me."

His throat bobbed. "It's a fair contract," he nodded once. "We've already agreed on your first point. Do you mind if I write on this?" he held up his pen, waiting for approval.

"Go ahead," I nodded. He set the page down and ticked off number one.

"Number 2. I think I'm capable of those sorts of 'dates'," he didn't use air quotations but I could hear them in his voice. He's not comfortable with the word, even after last night. "If we want to do things outside of your apartment or mine, we will need to go out of the city. Maybe even out of state. Would you be willing to travel?"

"Yes, that's fine."

He added his note onto the end of mine. His handwriting is cursive and perfect, regardless of how quickly he writes.

"I have no issues with 3," he continued. "It's actually a very good point. I think you should familiarise yourself with my equipment."

"Was that a pun?" I quipped. He dragged his eyes to meet mine, stony for a moment, before a smirk spread across his lips. "Can I veto whatever I don't like?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. Number 4?"

His left eye twitched. He raised his finger and rubbed at the site of the twitch. "How much do you want to know?"

"Enough," I shrugged. "More than I do now."

"There are aspects of my personal life that I don't discuss with anyone, except my psychiatrist." He tilted his head back.

"You see a psychiatrist?"

He nodded. "I had a tough childhood. That part of my life is off limits."

"So we won't talk about your childhood then," I whispered. I wanted to reach across and place my hand over his, but I didn't. "Unless you ever decide you want to."

"I won't," he said categorically. No hesitation. That unnerved me a little.

What could he be hiding? Just how bad was his childhood?

He didn't give me time to dwell on the subject. He cleared his throat and moved on, leaving the last point unticked. "Number 5 is fine. Number 6… No. I need longer than thirty days. Three months is a reasonable amount of time."

"It's too long," I insisted.

"It really isn't," he shook his head. "You will be surprised how quickly the time goes. We first met in January, we're now in the middle of March. Three months. It goes quickly."

I grinded my teeth. "Thirty days."

He narrowed his eyes. His tongue peeked from between his lips, spreading across his bottom lip.

"Two months," he offered.

"Six weeks," I met him halfway. "Forty days. That's it. Take it or leave it."

"Six weeks?" he pursed his lips and then turned his eye to the page again. He tutted and then scribbled those two words onto the end of my sentence. "You drive a seriously hard bargain, Miss Steele. I could use someone with your bargaining skills. In fact, I have an opening that I would –"

"Haven't you read number 8?" I cocked my eyebrow at him.

"I'm getting there," he nodded. "Number 7 first. I like to spend money on the people closest to me. It's not as if I'm short of the cash, Ana. A few hundred dollars here and there means nothing to me."

"It means a lot to me," I shook my head. "It means a lot to most people."

"My previous submissives have never had a problem with it," he shrugged his shoulder.

"Well, I think we can both agree that I'm different." I crossed my arms underneath my chest. "I don't want your money. If you're desperate to swindle it away, give it to a charity or something."

"I already donate a large percentage of my income to charity," he said calmly. "I make over $100,000 an hour. I'm a very wealthy man and I want to treat you. I want to buy you nice things. What is the harm in that?"

"It makes me feel weird. I don't like it." I shook my head.

"You can't put a blanket ban on me spending money on you," he countered. "You have to meet me halfway. Don't deny me the privilege of buying a beautiful woman some flowers, a new dress, a vibrator..."

A laugh burst out of my chest. He grinned wickedly at me.

"If I agree to limit the amount of money I spend, will you just accept what I buy you?"

"You need to limit the amount of money and the number of times you buy me stuff," I ordered him. "It can't be an everyday thing."

"I can deal with that," he nodded and whisked his pen across the page.

"But it means I can buy you stuff, too." I nodded. He frowned. "It works both ways. If you're going to give me gifts, that means I can buy you stuff, as well… They won't be amazing or expensive. I'm not made of money. I'm just a lowly bartender."

"I'm always grateful for whatever gifts I'm given," he said. I thought, at first, that he was making a sarcastic remark about my attitude towards gifts. However, the look on his face was sombre and distant. He was being serious and it made my heart twinge with sadness. "Are we settled on number 7?"

I nodded and gave a small smile, my chest still swollen and aching for his unknown pain. He nodded in return.

"Right. Work," he circled the whole of number eight. "You don't want my help in securing another job for you."

"I don't want you to pay someone to hire me," I corrected him. "I'm not refusing any help, just the type you've offered. I don't want to be indebted to you, and I don't want to work in a place where my colleagues will point and say 'ha, you're just here because you screwed a billionaire'. I don't want that."

"What do you want?" he huffed slightly, confusion in his eyes now. "You don't want to work at the club, but you aren't prepared to utilise my knowledge to find another job? It makes no sense. There are a hundred people out there who would kill to be in your position right now."

"I know," I agreed with him.

"I've been in this business for a long time now," he continued, forcefully.

"But I don't want to work in financial solutions or whatever it is you do," I shook my head.

"All you'd have to say is yes and I could find you a new job, in a career of your choosing, in less than thirty minutes." He promised. I knew he was telling the truth. I don't doubt his powers of persuasion. "Let me help you. Jesus, Ana, at least let me take a look at your fucking résumé!"

"Fine!" I relented. "You can look at my résumé. You can send me information of new vacancies that you come across, but that's it. You need to back off and let me take charge."

"Fine," he grunted and wrote a hasty note, his pen scratching hard at the page. I could see his shoulders rising a little, becoming tense. I straightened my spine and pressed my knees together. "You want to label us?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I need to know what I can call you behind your back," I sighed. "If I can't mention your name, I'm going to need something else. Are you some guy I'm dating? Are you my fuck buddy? Are you my boyfriend?"

He flinched a little at the end of my sentence. It was subtle, unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but I've become pretty adept at reading his body and face for slight changes. I've needed to, considering how closed off he is in other ways.

"Call me what you like," he blinked slowly. "It makes no difference to me."

That's not exactly what I was hoping to hear, but I let it roll off my back. "Okay."

"Are we done now, or is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"I think we're done," I nodded. I pushed my chair back from the table and placed both palms down on the desk. "Do we need to sign these contracts?"

"No," he shook his head. "They're just for reference, as long as we both understand that these are the rules and expectations we'll be sticking to for the duration of this arrangement."

I nodded. He rose from his seat and smoothed down his tie. "Excuse me for a moment. I'll make a copy of your contract, so we both have it."

He exited the office in a rush, his steps as sharp and precise as his tongue. When I heard the door close on itself, I slumped forward and let out a long, exploding breath. I lifted my hands to my temples and shook my head.

He's so damn mercurial, it's starting to give me a headache. One second he is laughing, the next he is sharp with me. He shows a fraction of vulnerability and then the walls come shooting back up, a defensive barrier to stop anyone from getting close to him. I've seen him behave like this before, but never to this extent. Maybe it's because he's here, at his place of work?

I reached for a drink, pouring myself a small cup of tea to help take the edge off. I stole another sandwich and chewed slowly, staring out of the window at the Seattle skyline. My mouth was full when Christian returned, coming up behind me and placing the original copy of my contract on the table.

He rounded the table and sat back down. He poured coffee into his cup and drank it neat, no sugar, no milk. He didn't reach for any food.

"Aren't you hungry?" I asked, covering my mouth with my hand.

"I've already eaten," he shook his head and sipped his coffee.

I frowned. "So all of this is for me?" He nodded. My eyes widened. "It's a bit much for just one person."

"I'll have Andrea pack it up for you," he shrugged. "I don't want it to go to waste."

I agreed with him. It would be such a waste to just throw away food this delicious. I'm sure Kate and I will be able to finish it off. Finishing my sandwich, I wiped my hands on a napkin, then dabbed the corners of my mouth with it.

We sat quietly for a moment, sipping our drinks, the air notably tense between us. I tapped my heels together, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Christian drummed his fingers against the side of his cup.

He sighed. "I'm glad we were able to discuss this so amicably," he muttered, his voice deep and throaty. "You raised some very good points."

"Thanks," I gulped. "You were pretty fair with my objections and compromises… so what happens next?"

"If you're ready, we begin your training," he turned his cheek to me, his dark eyes meeting mine with a flare of something in them. "I'll take you in my playroom and we'll go through everything, see what you like and don't like. I'm free this weekend."

"I'll check my schedule," I nodded. He asked me to email him with details of when I'm available, which I took as my cue to leave. I rose gingerly from my chair and gathered my things.

Christian helped me with my jacket, slipping it back up my arms and onto my shoulders. His palms worked their way back down my hands, tickling my fingers as he let go of me. They didn't linger as they did before, just retracting to his sides.

"I'll escort you down to your car," he whispered, holding out his arm, gesturing to the door. "I'll have the remaining food delivered to your apartment later this afternoon."

"Okay." I didn't really understand why I couldn't take it now, but I didn't question him. I flung my purse over my shoulder and followed him out of his office, back into the lobby.

The three blondes sat behind the desk, mumbling to each other. They only stopped when they realised Christian was present. In a beat they were silent, smiles painted across their lips, ready to jump at any instruction he has to give them. Andrea was the only one to stand to attention. Christian spoke to her directly, ignoring the other two.

"Pack up the rest of Miss Steele's lunch. I want to couriered to her apartment for… will you be home by four o'clock?" he snapped his head to me, holding a finger up. I looked around nervously and then nodded. He turned back to look at Andrea. "Four o'clock."

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "Mr Chang has arrived. He's waiting in boardroom two."

"Tell him I will be with him in a moment," he ordered. "I'm going to escort Miss Steele downstairs."

Andrea didn't question him. She picked up the phone receiver and put in a call to someone, muttering in a hushed tone. The other two blondes stared me out, their eyes grazing over me. Christian gave me no time to dwell on it. His hand rested at the base of my spine, ushering me towards the glass doors that lead to the elevators.

I didn't notice Taylor standing at the entrance to Christian's private elevator until I was right in front of the steel door. I was too busy distracted by Christian's hand and its proximity to my behind. Taylor stood with his hands pooled together in front of him, his feet shoulder-width apart.

"Sir," Taylor greeted Christian. "Anything I can help with?"

"No. Wait here," he shook his head.

Taylor buzzed for the elevator, the doors popping open in an instant. I stepped inside first, heading for the back left side. Christian entered beside me, on my right, governing the keypad. The doors sealed around us again, the air becoming still and listless. I lifted my hand to my chest, feeling my heart rate quicken. It didn't feel this small earlier.

Christian shifted his balance. He rolled his neck from side to side, grunting a noise. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, but I was too late. His attack was stealth, predatory, all over me before I had chance to blink.

He pushed me back against the railing, the hard pole pressing into my butt as he flattened me against the wall. One hand rested on my hip, gripping hard, the other cupping my jaw. His lips crushed mine, devouring me. I gasped for breath, his tongue penetrating deep into my mouth.

"I want you," he grunted, sucking on my bottom lip. His hips grinded into mine, forcing me to feel his erection against my thigh. "I want to rip this fucking dress off you and fuck you right here."

"Christian…" I tilted my head back as his lips travelled down my neck, heading for my cleavage. I was lost in the moment, lending myself to him shamelessly.

With a swift upward thrust, his erection located my sex. The friction of him against my lace panties evoked a moan from deep within my chest. I could feel myself coming apart at the seams, heady from the devilishness of his lips, the smell of his cologne mixing with my perfume.

I wanted to reach down and prise apart his zipper, direct his length into me, but he pulled away before I had the chance to even breath. A loud ping echoed through the elevator, the steel chamber opening out onto the basement. Eyes wide, I smoothed down my dress and exited the car. My legs were shaking, ready to give away at any second.

Christian moved to stand in front of me, his hands reaching for his tie. He straightened his collar and inhaled a sharp breath. My eyes dropped to his crotch. There was no evidence of his erection. How does he do that?

"Shall we?" he gestured his head towards the exit and, in a move that took me by surprise, he held his hand out to me.

I frowned, hesitating to place my palm on his. "In broad daylight?"

"Why do you think I asked you here?"

"Because you're busy?" I arched my brow, shrugging my shoulder as I gave him the reason he said earlier.

"Yes, but also because this is _my_ building," he stressed. "I control everything and everyone here. No one can get into the building or parking lot without permission, which means only pre-approved people can stand a chance of seeing us together. I make everyone sign an NDA. If they do see anything, they can't talk about it. It's the only place I'm truly safe from prying eyes. Aside from my apartment."

I mouthed an 'O' at him, getting it now. "So do you conduct all of your playroom discussions here?"

He shook his head. "You're the first. Now, are you going to give me your hand or leave me standing here looking like a dick?"

I smiled and raised my hand, placing it into his hold. He curled his fingers around mine and tugged me forward, out into the parking lot. We passed only one person on our way to my car: an African American gentleman who greeted Christian with a 'Good Afternoon, Sir'. Christian simply nodded in return.

As we neared Wanda, I reached into my purse and grabbed my keys. Christian had let go of my hand. I unlocked my door and turned to look at him again, but he had moved away. He was rounding my car, a look of disgust etched over his features.

"What?" I asked him.

"This is your car?"

I nodded. "You know it is. You've seen it before." I reminded him. He's seen it both at the club and when I called him when Wanda broke down and I needed a ride.

"In the dark," he shot me a glance as he came back to me. "I didn't get a good look at it. Elliot said it was a classic, but I didn't realise it was a fucking death trap."

"_Elliot? _Oh! The car repair shop." I remembered the text message from the company. "Wanda isn't a death trap. She runs perfectly well."

"How long have you had this piece of junk?" he grimaced.

"Hey! Don't call her junk. She was a gift from my step-father," I shook my head at him. "I've had her for a while, maybe four years?"

"Don't you think it's time for an upgrade? Something from this century, maybe?"

I rolled my eyes at him and bent over, throwing my things into the car. "Well, if all you're going to do is insult my means of transportation, I better leave."

His hands hugged my waist again, pulling me upright. He spun me on my heels, ordering me to face him. His left hand rose to my cheek.

"It's your safety I'm thinking of," he whispered, his lips hovering over mine. "This car has already broken down on you once. What if I hadn't answered your call that night? You would have been stuck out there on your own."

"Wanda has run fine since she was repaired," I told him. "So you can tell this Elliot guy that he's done a good job. She's better than ever."

"I will pass on the message," he eased down and lightly pressed his lips to mine. Softer, easier than in the elevator.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of unpredictable?" I asked him. He eyed me, narrowing his gaze. "It's hard to keep up with you. You go from one extreme to the other."

"It's who I am," he said coolly, without a shift in expression. "I'm not used to any of this. I'm out of my comfort zone. It's a big change."

"Are you scared?" I wondered.

He nodded. "Very. Scared of whether I'll cope with not being in control all the time, what will happen if I lose control… what will happen if you walk away."

"I'm not going to walk away," I offered my lips to his. "Actually, I'm going to drive away."

His lips curled into a small smile. "Don't keep me waiting. Let me know when you're working this week."

"I will," I nodded. "This afternoon has been… _interesting_."

"Interesting," he repeated.

"Goodbye, Mr Grey," I kissed him again and then took hold of his fingers, peeling them away from my body. "Thank you for meeting with me today."

"It was my pleasure."

He pushed my door to a close when I had settled in my seat. He waited in front of the parking bay as I reversed back, swinging around to make my way down to the barriers. I looked at him through my rear-view mirror, standing with his hands at his sides, fists clenched. He's out of his depth and it shows. Something tells me that he will be at home in the playroom, back on his territory, discussing something familiar to him. Our roles have the ability to reverse within seconds. The only trouble is, I don't know which one of us is truly driving this relationship.

* * *

**P.S: Although it is my birthday this coming Thursday, April 21st, I would like to use my birthday wishes and send you all love and hugs. I shall raise a glass to you all! You've been incredible and I look forward to continuing this story into my 23rd year of life! x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AP630** \- Thank you! I'm really glad you've enjoyed it so far and were looking forward to this chapter. I hope you like it. Much Love x

**Sarah** \- Thank you! I had a wonderful birthday. :) I hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**SuzB** \- Thank you! And happy belated birthday to you! :) I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello My Lovelies,**

**Thank you for the love on the last chapter and for the enormous amount of support you've offered me over the past few months. If you read 'The Good Will Come', you'll know that I took a break from writing so I could focus on my studies. But I'm back for summer and hopefully armed with much more frequent updates!**

**I hope you like this chapter and the return of one of my favourite characters in this story. :)**

**(In the last chapter: Ana and Christian discussed each of their contracts at GEH, striking a deal that suits each of them. Ana agreed to check her schedule and see when she's next free, so they can begin her 'training' and she can spend time in the playroom, getting to know the equipment etc. This chapter picks up straight after Ana leaving GEH.)**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

As soon as I stepped through the front door to my apartment, I kicked off my heels and dumped my jacket and purse on the floor. I'll pick them up later, before Kate comes home from work, but after that meeting with Christian I just need to sit down and take a minute. I'm looking forward to having a quiet night in on my own. Kate is going to her parents for dinner, meaning I can lounge around in my pyjamas and finish the book I've been reading.

I'm glad Christian and I were able to talk through everything, clear the air on a lot of things that had been bothering me. And I'm kind of surprised at how agreeable he was. He was open to compromise, which meant a lot to me. I'm sure it meant a great deal to him, too. A part of me hated leaving him earlier, but the other part is glad for some space. When I'm with him, my mind takes a back seat. Not completely but I do feel dazzled by him, by his overwhelming grace, dominance and beauty. It's nice to take a step back and think about what's happened. I'm glad he hasn't pushed me into making the decision to try out his lifestyle. He's made it clear that he wanted me to say yes, but I know he would have respected my choice if I had have said no. He wouldn't have liked it, but he'd leave me be.

If there's one thing I am sure of, it's that Christian Grey is a good man. He has odd preferences, but he has a good spirit. And I can feel myself falling deeper into this relationship with every passing minute.

Leaning back into the couch, I sighed and closed my eyes, my lips still tingling from his kiss. His mouth… What I wouldn't give to have his mouth on my –

I jerked my head up at the sound of my cell phone blaring at me from across the room. I jumped up and rushed over to my purse, my stomach starting to bubble with excitement, wondering if it's Christian calling.

I frowned as I saw Cal's name flashing on the screen.

"Hello?" I answered, bracing myself for him and his stern voice.

"Steele," he grunted. "Why didn't you answer my email?"

"What email?" my frown deepened, my brows knitting together in the middle of my face.

"I sent you an email fifteen minutes go," he explained, a sense of urgency and annoyance in his tone. Nothing new there then. "Listen, Lincoln is busting my balls over your contract. If it's not signed today, there's a good chance she'll rip them right off and use them as paper weights."

_Another contract_, I hummed to myself, rolling my eyes.

"I need you here early," he continued. "Be here by 4:30 so we can sign off on it."

"Can't it wait until I'm next in?" I asked.

"Did you not hear what I said about my balls?" he snapped back at me. "I know you don't understand, but I'd like to keep them intact. Anyway, you're in tonight."

"What? No I'm not."

"You fucking are."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," he huffed. "Listen, just get your ass down here before I pop a hernia or something. You're working tonight. I'm short staffed and I need an extra pair of hands."

"Fine…" I sighed quietly, but he still heard me.

"Less of the attitude, Steele." Cal's voice softened somewhat as he exhaled a deep breath. "Look, I'll take you for breakfast when your shift is over. Call it a thank you. Deal?"

"Are you paying?"

"Don't push it," he countered and then hung up on me, already knowing that I can't say no to him. Yes, the idea of a free breakfast is tempting, but so is having a job to return to. While I wait for something else to come along, I still need money to pay my bills.

I guess I'm not having a quiet night in after all.

* * *

The club was empty except for Cal and two other bartenders when I arrived. I couldn't remember their names, having only crossed paths with them once before, but I still waved and smiled at them as I made my way over to Cal's booth. A smile costs nothing, as my mother always used to tell me.

Cal was stewing over a cup of coffee, the table covered in paperwork. His laptop was open on the bench beside him, the light reflecting off the ox-blood leather coverings. I slipped in opposite him. He didn't look up for a few moments, too busy scribbling down something on his memo-pad.

"You're early," he finally acknowledged, putting down his pen. He leaned back and let his shoulders drop. His dark eyes were lined with exhaustion, his skin looking paler than its usual caramel colour.

"You sounded desperate on the phone," I said. "A heads up would have been nice though. I checked the schedule you emailed me. I'm not supposed to be here tonight."

"Like I said, I'm short staffed," he shrugged, not a single care given. He really does have that 'fuck it' attitude down to a tee. "You want the cash, don't you?" I nodded. "So what's the problem? Anyway, less of that, you've been here for three months. Your probation is over, so it's time to sort out your contract."

"You still want me here?" I arched my brow. He gave me a cold look. "I mean, I kind of expected you to fire me. It's not as if I'm the best person here. I make mistakes… a lot of them."

"Are you trying to get me to fire you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps straining under his shirt. Whereas all bartenders are required to wear only black, Cal wears a white shirt to differentiate himself from the rest of us. It also helps to spot him if you need urgent help. The club can get extremely busy, so with his brilliant white shirt and extreme height, he's easy to locate in amongst the crowd. "Because if you want me to fire you, that's fine. I'll get rid of your ass in two seconds, if that's what you want."

"No," I shook my head. "I just… well, you've been pretty honest with saying that you never wanted me here in the first place."

"You're not the best, but you're getting better." He tilted his head as he shrugged. That's probably the closest Cal will get to giving me a compliment, so I accept it without hesitation. "You needed this job, for whatever reason. I get it. I've been there. Someone gave me a chance way back when I was a scruffy prick with barely two cents to rub together, it's only right that I can do that for someone else."

"I am looking for another job," I admitted, my voice choking a little. I didn't know how he'd react to hearing that, seeing as he's gone out of his way to help me.

"Good," he nodded. "You don't belong here. Heard anything back yet?"

"Not yet," I shook my head. "I've submitted a few applications over the past couple days."

"Let me know if you need time off for interviews and stuff," he urged me. "We'll work something out… and if you need a reference, just put me down. Don't go to Lincoln."

"Thank you," I sighed with relief. I know Ms Lincoln would screw me over in a heartbeat. She hates me and I don't really know why. If this were a novel, I'd guess it was because she felt threatened by me. But why? It doesn't make sense. "That really means a lot."

He inhaled a deep breath and began rummaging through his paperwork. He stopped when he came to wad of stapled papers, my name scrawled on the top of the page in thick black ink.

"There's two parts to the contract," he explained, tearing off the top two pages and sliding them in front of me. "First, there's the non-disclosure agreement. We get a lot of high profile members coming here and we don't want anyone blabbing to the press. It stops you from talking. You break the agreement, you can kiss goodbye to everything."

I scanned over the page. It looks identical to the one Christian gave me. I looked for references to BDSM on the paper, but it looks like it's been omitted. Another attempt to hide the true nature of the club from me.

I reached for Cal's pen and signed my name at the bottom of the second page before handing it back to him. Christian's NDA is still unsigned. I don't know if he'll expect me to sign that, but I hope he doesn't. He reminds me whenever he can that all of this will be based on trust, so I hope he'll trust me enough to let it slide. I can be trusted. I'd never break his trust or his heart. I don't have it in me.

"Here's the contract," Cal pushed the second lot of work in front of me. "There's been a few amendments to the contract. That's why it's taken a few weeks to get it together. Lincoln wanted it add a couple of clauses."

"Right…" I hummed and embraced the contract.

I seemed pretty standard for the most part, with a list of rules and expectations from both myself and the club – things they will safeguard me from, things they require from me. Cal already talked me through most of it when I started. It was only when I reached the end of the document that I came to the amended parts. It stood out like a sore thumb.

_23.7 – All employees will be required to undergo random drug testing. The test will compile of urine and hair follicle samples. The results of said test will be made available to both Mrs E Lincoln, Mr C Hunter and the employee in question. The results will be kept on file, stored confidentially. In the event of a clear and positive test, this contract will be terminated with immediate effect with no severance pay issued to the employee. In the event of an unclear and positive test, the employee will be required to undergo a blood test to confirm the result of the test. During which time the employee will be suspended from the club with basic rate salary._

_23.8 – The club reserves the right to demand that there be no inter-employee relations of a sexual nature. This includes and is not exclusive to: bartenders, security, observers, senior management and club owner/s. Any employees found to be engaging in inter-employee relations will be suspended from the club with immediate effect, whilst an investigation is conducted. During an investigation, both parties will be interviewed separately, before witnesses are brought forward. In the event of confirmation, both parties will have their employment terminated and will forgo severance pay. _

_24.1 – There will be no reference provided for employees found to have violated the terms and conditions of this contract._

_24.2 – In the event of this contract being terminated prior to the above review date, the employee will receive all monies owned to them on the first Monday of the next month. The employee will be given a three-day notice to collect and remove any belongings they have, as well return their full and complete uniform to Mr C Hunter._

"I guess something must have happened in order for this to be added," I mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on my portion of the bench. I lifted my hand to my throat, feeling it red hot under my touch. I know I'm burning up.

Cal nodded, his eyes fixed on mine, as if trying to find an admission in me.

"We've always had a strict no drugs policy," he explained. I nodded. Christian told me about the mirrors, that they're there so we can see anything being exchanged. "We had some problems in New York with drugs. One of my team ended up having their drink spiked by a member."

"Oh god," I shook my head. "What happened?"

"She was fine," he assured him. "She passed out in the staff room, but it's not something I want to happen again. Employees and members will be expected to go through drug testing. I won't have drugs in this place."

I nodded. In college, I saw some people dabble with recreational drugs. I never saw the fun in it. It never appealed to me, still doesn't.

"The relationship thing was Lincoln's doing," he continued, snapping my attention back to him. "She suspects that there is foul play going on somewhere in the team. She won't tell me who she thinks it is, just that she's not happy."

"Why? Why does it bother her?"

"Do I look like a fucking mind reader?" he jerked his head back. "Fuck knows why… My guess is that if people are busy screwing, they're not completely focused on the job. We pride ourselves in offering a first class service to members, they pay enough in fees so they deserve the best."

"That makes sense," I agreed. Members pay an extortionate amount of money to come here, to live out their fantasies in the rooms upstairs.

"Either that or she's not getting any and is jealous," he quipped. "I've always said she needs to get laid, maybe it'd stop her being such a fucking bitch."

I didn't know whether to laugh, gasp or curl into a ball and cringe. So I just sat still, eyes wide open.

"Don't repeat a word of that," he warned me, pointing his finger and giving me a narrow glare. "Now, if you want to take the contract away and consult someone on it, that's fine. But I need it back as soon as possible."

I hesitated for a moment, before picking up the pen and quickly scribbling my signature across the dotted line. If I don't sign it, I'll look guilty. It won't take long before she finds out that I'm the one caught up in a Maîtrise scandal. No, it's better to sign and plead innocence.

"Good," Cal's lips curled into a slight smile as he took back the papers. He co-signed the papers and then handed them back to me. "Welcome to the team, Steele. Now, go see Lincoln and get her to sign it too. She's in her office."

* * *

Cal returned to his paperwork, sifting through endless streams of spreadsheets, orders and timetables. He barely even looked at me as I rose from the booth and gingerly walked over to the office behind him.

I paused at the door, waiting a moment before knocking. I needed an extra few seconds to gather myself, calm the nerves buzzing through my veins. When I rapped my knuckles on the intricately carved wood, she barked 'enter' at me.

I stepped inside the office as quietly as I could manage, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself. The sooner this is over, the better.

"What do _you_ want?"

Ms Lincoln raised her head only slightly, just enough so she could look up at me from over the brim of the glasses sitting on her nose. Her red lips were pursed into a fine line, her platinum blonde hair in its usual coiffed style.

"Cal said to give this to you," I muttered, waving the papers I was desperately clinging onto, as if it acted like some sort of shield.

"Well, give it to me then," she huffed, sitting back in her chair.

I rushed forward and placed it in her hands, taking an eager step back from the desk. It looks so much bigger with her sitting at it. When Christian sat there, he appeared to swallow its grandeur. He dominates whatever space he's in, far more exquisite than any of the artwork on display in this office.

"Oh good, I was wondering whether you would sign this," her lips curled into a sly grin. "I thought you would have quit before now. Didn't think you could hack it."

"I'm glad to have proved you wrong," I replied tersely, biting my tongue.

Her brow arched. "You haven't. You'll slip up, I know you will."

My lips parted, my objection on the tip of my tongue, but she silenced me with a finger.

She picked up a pen from the desk and flicked it over the page, signing her name without a second thought. She rose to her feet and pressed her palms onto the desk, pushing her weight down onto it. The low cut of her dress and her angled posture revealed an ample show of her cleavage. But irrespective of her clearly high-maintenance beauty regime, anyone could see that her chest was wrinkled and aged. Her face says late thirties, her chest screaming older. Much older.

"Just a piece of advice for you, Miss Steele," she snarled, her icy glare taking in my whole body. "Remember that this is my playpen. I make the rules, what I say goes. I say jump, you say how high. Do I make myself clear?"

I clenched my fists down at my sides, pressing them into my thighs. I nodded once.

"Good," she smiled. "That box over there, by the door… it needs to go upstairs. Take it up there and unpack it into the store cupboard."

I didn't know what game she was playing, but I wasn't going to let her win. I turned on my heels and stepped over to the rather large box on the floor. I picked it up and staved off my shock at its heaviness. From the corner of my eye, I saw her sit back down at the desk, watching as I struggled to open the door.

"Oh and Miss Steele?" she called as I yanked on the handle. I turned my head towards her, noting the smug grin she was now wearing. "One more thing."

"Yes?" I sighed.

"I'm always watching. Even when you least expect it," she uttered slowly, pressing on my last nerve. I sucked my cheeks together to stop myself from answering her back. "That's all. You can leave now."

* * *

I hauled the box up the staircase, grinding my teeth on every step, my arms aching at its weight.

Of all the people she needed to carry this, it had to be me. Bitch. Fucking bitch. Fucking bitch-troll.

As soon as I reached the top landing, I dumped the box on the floor, no longer caring what is inside. I can only imagine after seeing some of the stuff in Christian's playroom. The worst bit? Bitch troll knows I'm not supposed to be up here. She thinks I don't know about all of this, about the playrooms and what happens in them. Which means she wants to unnerve me. She's trying to mess with my head.

"What the fuck?"

I snapped my head around at the sound of Cal's harsh tone. He was stood on the second to top step, his arms thrown out in despair. He was on the brink of total destruction, his eyes seething with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing up here?" he demanded, charging towards me. He looked down at the box and examined it. "You're not supposed to be up here, you know that."

"She told me," I stuttered, shaking my head.

"Who?"

"Ms Lincoln," I pointed down the staircase and to the closed office door. "She told me to bring it up here."

"What…?" his heavy brows lowered around his eyes, his gaze turning to the office door. I could see his mind pulsing, trying to work it out. He exhaled a hard breath. "Follow me. Now."

He raced down the stairs and slammed the staffroom door open. I tried to keep up with him, following in the wake of his steps. Cal stood at the other end of the room, at the exit. He opened the door and ushered me outside and down the steps. He led me away from the building, before twisting back to face me.

"What happened?" he kept his voice low. "When you were in the office with her?"

"She told me to take the box upstairs and unpack it," I explained again.

"She knows you're not supposed to go up there," he shook his head. "We had a deal. I deal with you. She doesn't get to give you orders. We agreed to that when you stared."

"I was just doing as she said," I said with a hint of apology in my voice. He's pissed and I don't really know if it's me he's angry with. "She all but threatened me when I was in her office, Cal. She told me to remember my place and that she's always watching me."

"That's what she does. She likes to scare people," he tutted. "She's always doing it, the fucking bitch… You should have come to me first. I don't care what she said, I'm your boss. I said that you stay downstairs."

I chewed on my lip and rocked on my heels. I stared into his eyes, holding his gaze for several moments. His lips parted as if preparing to say something, but he stopped himself. His eyes widened and he tilted his head back.

"Fuck…" his shoulders dropped forward. "You know, don't you?"

I just nodded at him. His throat bobbed and he raised his hands to his temples, pressing them hard with his palms.

"Shit. Right, stay out of Lincoln's way for the rest of the night. Don't look at her. Don't speak to her. If she talks to you, you ignore her. I don't care what she says, just do as I say. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"We'll talk about this later," he ordered. "Not here. Walls have ears in this place."

* * *

After my shift, I climbed into Wanda and waited for Cal to exit the club. He didn't want us to be seen leaving together. He barely acknowledged me for the rest of the night, only glancing my way every few minutes, making sure I was sticking to his orders. He climbed into his truck and signalled for me to follow him. We drove to Starbucks over on Steward Street, choosing a table at the back of the restaurant. I sat down whilst Cal ordered drinks and food for us both: iced tea and blueberry scone for me, Pike Place roast and cheese Danish for him.

He didn't waste any time getting to the heart of the matter.

"Let's get one thing clear," he began, pulling up his chair and leaning closer. He hunched his shoulders forward and looked less like the club manager I've come to know. He'd thrown on a black hoodie before leaving the club, trading in his smart shoes for sneakers. He looks more like the neighbourhood bad guy now. "Whatever is discussed here, stays here. I'm not going to blab to Lincoln or anyone else, and I expect you to offer the same courtesy to me as well. Deal?"

"Okay," I nodded.

"When did you find out?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"Were you told or did you figure it out by yourself?"

I hesitated.

"So you were told," he surmised, glancing around us. I nodded. "I'm not to ask who told you, but I think I have a good idea. Does Lincoln know that you know?"

I shrugged. "I don't think so. Do you think she knows?"

"It's possible," he took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "It's more likely that she doesn't. She probably wanted you to go up there and see it for yourself, get the shock factor in."

"She's an evil woman," I mumbled. He grunted his agreement at me. "She makes my skin crawl."

"You're not the only one," he whistled. "Everyone hates her, except Grey."

I had to force myself to sit still as he mentioned Christian. I didn't want to give anything away, even though he already hinted that he knows Christian didn't stick by his words to leave me alone.

"Grey lets her fuck around like this," he continued. "It doesn't matter what she does, he always brushes it off. He'll stand up to her but he'll back down eventually. There's only room for one alpha where they're concerned and Lincoln wins every time."

"How long have you known them?" I asked, lifting my tea and taking a much needed gulp from it.

"Grey for about three years, Lincoln for a few more than that," he shrugged. "She took over ownership of a club I used to work in, back in New York."

"Was it like Maîtrise?" I asked. "You know, like the upstairs?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was a fucking dive. I worked there for a couple years, on and off. I dabbled in that sort of stuff but I stopped when shit got real… The owners didn't give a fuck about anyone. Too many people got hurt because there were no rules. I saw too many injuries, too many tears and broken hearts. So I got out. I quit and campaigned for the place to be shut down. It was shut for about six months before Lincoln came along and bought it. I tried to stop her from opening and ended up getting a job offer."

"Really?"

"She told me that she wouldn't stand for that kind of bullshit," he explained. "She told me about all the rules she'd implement, the rigorous testing on equipment to make sure it was safe. That's what I wanted. I don't give a fuck if people want to whip each other until they can't sit right for months, just as long as it's safe and consensual. Lincoln didn't want the bad press before the launch, so she offered me a job. She said that if I could prove that things were dodgy within three months of opening, she'd close up for good. She offered me a hefty salary and a shit load of benefits that I couldn't refuse. I had my little brother to look after, I couldn't turn her down."

"I assume you didn't find any problems then?"

He shook his head. "Regardless of what you might think, Lincoln makes sure that all of her members are decent people. Since I've worked for her, I've never seen any serious injuries. No broken bones, no emergency room visits, no arguments. It's all above board. She's offering people a safe venue to act out their fantasies."

"So even though you hate her, you still work for her because you want to keep an eye on things – make sure it's still safe for people?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "Plus, I'm putting Trent through college at the moment. Someone's gotta pay his fees. I'm not going to let him down. When he's finished school, I'm considering dropping out of the club. I seriously fucking hate Lincoln. And Grey pisses me off too."

"Why?"

"Because he's got no backbone where she's concerned," he huffed. "He's her fucking lap dog. Like I said, he lets her get away with murder. She controls him."

I found that a hard pill to swallow. Christian himself protests that he has to be in control.

"He's a dominant," he continued. He didn't say it in a revelation kind of way, it's clear in his eyes that he knows I'm well aware of that fact. "He needs submissives, but he doesn't look for them himself. She finds them for him. He plays with them for a few months and then disposes of them without a care in the world. She's probably got three more lined up for him, for when he's bored of the current situation."

Cal arched his brow at me as he downed the rest of his coffee. I could feel the bitterness of it course through my veins.

"She makes sure that she is in charge," he added. "She controls who he fucks. When that control slips, she turns up the dial and gets real nasty. I've seen it happen before and it's not pretty. That's what she's doing, Steele. She knows Grey is interested in you and she hates that. She didn't choose you. He did."

I bit down on my tongue. Hard.

"She'll do whatever she can to stop him going near you," he leaned in closer. "She sees you as a threat. She won't loosen her hold of him. She was his master first and I reckon he's painfully aware of that, and that's why he won't tell her to fuck off completely."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"She trained him," he said. "She was his dominant. She taught him everything he knows. When he wanted to become a dom, she allowed him to train on her. She subbed for him."

I felt sick. I could feel my skin crawling with nausea, waves of acid rising up my throat.

"Walls have ears," he nodded, as if answering the question burning my tongue. "She's always reminding him of it. I told him to back away from you for a whole host of reasons, but mainly because I didn't want you getting caught in the crossfire. The relationship they have, it's sick and twisted. You're best off out of it."

"I…" I blinked rapidly. "I like him. He's different… He's not a monster."

"No, but she is. Tell me something: has he forced you into anything?"

I shook my head without hesitating. "No. He's not like that. He's actually… he wants a compromise, make it equal for us."

"How long has it been going on?"

"A while," I said, leaving it at that. I've said too much already and given the current state of sickness ripping through me, I know I'm likely to spill all the beans.

"Do you love him?"

I jerked my head back. "I think it's too early for that," I gulped.

He arched his brow again. "Do you think he feels the same about you?"

"I hope so," I shrugged. "We both want it to work. He wants to be with me."

Cal swirled his cup around, tapping his finger on the side of it. He sighed once more and sat back in his chair.

"Do what you want, Steele, just be careful," he begged me. "Don't give her any ammunition. Make sure she doesn't find out. Unless he stands up to her once and for all, she'll target you and any other woman he fucks around with. She's jealous. She wants him but he doesn't want her, not like that."

"What do I need to do?"

"Make sure she doesn't see you and him together, for a start," he grunted. "Try not to act weird around her, she's like a bloodhound and she will sense that something's up. Last night was a test and, hopefully, you passed it. If she pulls something like that again, come tell me. I'll sort the bitch out."

"Thank you, Cal."

He waved it off with the brush of his hand. "I'm not happy you're involved with Grey, but I'm not your keeper. You can do what you want, but I won't sit back and see you get hurt just because he wants his dick to be tickled. I like you, Steele. You're honest. I like that in people. You annoy the fuck out of me at times, but I like you."

"Thanks," I snorted a laugh.

"Make sure Grey treats you right, okay?" he narrowed his eyes. "Don't let him walk all over you."

"He's –"

"_Not like that_, yeah, I've heard it all before," he shook his head. "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone, I'm not like that. I don't screw with other people's feelings. I'm not like her."

"I really appreciate that."

"Remember what I said," he reminded me. "Don't let her find out. Your life won't be worth living if she does."

"What if she already knows?" I worried.

He shook his head. "If she already knew, she would have said something. She's fishing for info right now, wants to see if he's tried it on with you. You need to make sure he doesn't let it slip. He's thick as thieves with her. Trust me on that one."

_I do_, I thought to myself.

I stored that token of knowledge in the back of my mind, along with the memo to speak to Christian about all of this. He needs to know about this conversation – that Cal knows about us. But also, I need to confront him about bitch-troll. He didn't tell me that she dominated him. He could have told me, but he didn't. That alone sickens me the most.


	18. Chapter 18

**UPDATE:**** \- ****September 10th 2016 - I'm sorry for the delay. I am currently working on the next few chapters of this story, but I am trying to wrap up 'The Good Will Come' before returning to this version of Ana and Christian. I want to be able to concentrate on this story and can only do that once TGWC is over - which it will be very soon, I promise. Please just sit tight for another week or so. I will be back soon! Much Love and Thanks to you all! x**

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**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Piso29** – Thank you! I'm really glad to hear that you enjoyed it. :) Elena is certainly trying to stake her claim on Christian. Whether she knows about his and Ana's relationship is another question entirely! I hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Jen** – Thank you! Ana definitely should have heard that from Christian, but I hope he'll be honest with Ana when she does confront him about it. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Lia** – Thank you so much! I'm really glad you've enjoyed it so far and that you're looking forward to reading more. I really hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**AP630** – Thank you! There's plenty of fireworks planned – I actually have the whole story plotted, so I'm looking forward to exploring the drama with you. Much Love x

**Sophiedog22** – Thank you! Glad you liked it. :) Hope you like this one! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. :) I think Elena suspects that there's something going on, I'm not sure if she knows 100%. Christian would have to ask her! I hope you like this update. Much Love x

**ILoveLester** – Thank you! I love Cal. He's a good man. He's a little rough around the edges but he's the type of friend we all need – honest and always there to fight your corner. Ana's a very lucky girl! I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

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**Hello Again!**

**Bet you didn't expect to see me back again this soon after the last chapter? Give my recent track record, even I'm surprised to have churned this out as quick as I have!**

**I'm so glad to see that many of you enjoyed the last chapter - and that you enjoyed seeing Cal again. I do love him. I have a special place in my heart for him and I hope you'll grow to love him as his story develops!**

**I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I will be back with the next one very soon, I promise. I know many of you are itching for the confrontation between Ana and Christian...**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

Dr Jennifer Greene's office was the total opposite of what I was expecting. It didn't feel like a doctor's office at all, no medical posters pinned to the walls, no leaflets lying around on coffee tables or the smell of disinfectant tingling my nose. The only sign that confirmed I was in the right place was the etching on the window outside, declaring that Dr Greene is an OB-GYN. I still had to check with the receptionist, who offered me a smile and a wad of paperwork to fill in.

Sitting down on one of the plush beige chairs, I took out my phone and sent a text to Christian, asking him if he's free this evening. I'm not working tonight, on Cal's promise to give me the next few days off.

After having breakfast with Cal earlier, I went home and slept for a couple hours. It was a restless sleep, my mind ticking over at speed, wondering how I'd approach the subject of Ms Lincoln with Christian. Cal told me to be straight up with him, not to pussyfoot around. If there's a chance she already knows about us, Christian will be person she confronts head-on. She will provoke and tease me, but she'd turn to Christian in the end.

He needs to talk to her. But first, he needs to talk to me.

Cal assured me that he'll do whatever he can to ease things for me at the club. He asked me to calculate the minimum amount of money I need each month, so he can figure out the number of hours I'd need to work. He wants to cut my shifts to lessen the chance of me having a run-in with bitch-troll. He'll even try to fit those shifts into days when he knows she won't be around. He explained to me that she runs a beauty salon chain as well as her clubs, often commuting between them.

My phone buzzed in my palm, Christian's reply coming through. I swiped the screen and clicked on his message.

_I have a late meeting but I should be done by 8pm. Dinner, my place? C x_

**_That's fine by me. I'll drive to yours, can I park in your basement? x_**

_Of course. Text me when you leave your place. I'll wait for you in the basement. C x_

I was just about to type my reply when I saw the receptionist standing up, trying to grab my attention. She smiled and opened her arm out towards the long hallway to the right of her desk.

"Dr Greene is ready for you now," she nodded. "It's the end office."

"Thank you," I smiled back as I gathered my things and walked hastily towards the office.

I knocked once before opening the door, finding myself being greeted by a tall, smartly dressed blonde woman. She was already halfway around her desk, her hand outstretched and waiting for mine.

"Anastasia Steele?" she asked.

"Yes," I nodded and shook her hand. "Thank you for seeing me. I wasn't expecting to get an appointment so quickly. I thought I'd have to wait a couple weeks."

She gestured for me to sit down on one of the two armchairs at her desk, whilst she dropped into her grey coloured swivel chair.

"I run a tight ship," she smiled. "I don't like to keep anyone waiting. Did you fill in the forms at reception?"

"Yes."

"Great, just let me check them and then we'll get started," she nodded and turned her eye to her computer. I had watched the receptionist scan my papers when I finished with them.

Whilst Dr Greene read through my forms, I took a moment to look around her office. It's a spacious room, the colour scheme very neutral and earthy. There a few framed posters on the walls, with images of pregnancy and the reproductive system. Her desk is situated near the large windows at the end of the room, the outside world shielded by semi-open venetian blinds. Behind me, there is the usual bed and cabinets, a long white curtain ready to section off that part of the room.

"Okay," Dr Greene drew my eyes back to her. She has a friendly face, fine lines at the corners of her hazel coloured eyes. "Everything seems to be fine here. Do you mind me asking how you found me, just out of curiosity?"

"My friend Kate recommended you to me. She's registered with you," I explained.

"Great," she nodded back. "Now, have you registered with another gynaecologist's office before?"

"No, I haven't," I shook my head. "I'm not registered with anyone."

"That's fine. So what can I do for you today?"

"I'm here to talk about contraception. I want to go on the pill or something."

"Okay. Are you currently sexually active?"

I nodded.

"Using other forms of birth control?"

"Condoms," I nodded again.

"Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. We've been careful."

"Do you know when your next period is due?"

"This coming Monday. I'm always regular, every thirty days."

"It's nice to have a patient who keeps track of their cycles," she nodded and made a quick note of it. "We'll need to do a pregnancy test, just to make sure. That's just a urine sample, it only takes a couple of minutes. If that comes back negative, then we'll do some other tests and discuss the best option for you. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine, thank you." I nodded, blowing out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit nervous."

"It's going to fine, I'll talk you through everything and we'll make sure that you're happy with whatever method you decide to use." Dr Greene rose to her feet and shook off her cream blazer. Underneath she was wearing a blush shirt, pairing it with charcoal coloured slacks. "Now, is it okay to call you Anastasia?"

"I prefer Ana," I told her.

"Ana it is then. Let me just grab you a pot. You can do that sample for me and then we can get this show on the road."

* * *

I pulled Wanda into the empty parking bay near the elevators, drawing her to a stop in front of the large sign that reserved this spot for Christian. As I climbed out and locked up, I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't need to look up to know he was standing less than ten feet away, arms crossed around his chest. I could feel the heat radiating from his body and it was already driving me crazy.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I walked around the car and drifted towards him. I looked up briefly and caught sight of the smile spread high over his face. It reached his eyes and transformed them, made them appear brighter.

"Hello," he nodded, his eyes absorbing all of my body. I came to stop in front of him and he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to my mouth. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too," I sighed. And I am. I really am.

"Let me take that," he reached for my bag, slipping it off my shoulder and into his hold.

He turned away and swipe his card across the scanner on the nearby wall. The elevator doors parted and I stepped in first, moving out of the way of the keypad. He entered a series of numbers into the touchscreen monitor, the car lifting from the ground and rushing up to the penthouse.

I took a moment to examine his profile, the perfectly angled shape of his jaw, his sharp nose and the full curve of his lower lip. He looked relaxed, wearing dark wash jeans with a grey t-shirt, the short sleeves showing off the bulges of his biceps. Glancing down at his feet, I smiled as I saw converse instead of shiny black shoes. We're matching – his black and mine pastel blue. _Great minds must think alike_…

"What are you looking at?" he asked, drawing my eyes back up to his. He was shaking his head, still smiling.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "Just noticed you're a fan of converse too. My mother always said you can tell a lot about a man by the shoes he wears."

"Really?" he arched his brow, twisting his shoulders to face me a little more squarely. "And what do my shoes tell you about me?"

"That you're trying to prove to me that you're not highly-strung twenty-four-seven," I thought aloud. "It looks like you've purposefully dressed down because of what I said yesterday, about how I'm not into the whole splashing the cash thing. I mean, you've been home for what, thirty minutes?"

"Fifteen," he corrected me.

"That gave you just enough time to shower and change into something more casual and easy-going," I nodded. "You probably figured I would wear something simple and you didn't want me to feel awkward in comparison to you. You don't want me to feel shy because you're hoping I'll want to go in your playroom tonight. Am I right?"

"Spot on," he nodded after a second's pause. He tilted his head. "How did you get all of that from my shoes?"

I leaned in towards him and dropped my voice to a whisper. "I didn't… I can smell your body wash and your hair is still a little wet on top," I winked at him.

He tutted and shook his head, inching forward and closing the gap between us. Lifting his hands, he placed his palms on the wall, on either side of my head. I pressed up against the cool metal of the elevator, the rail digging into the bottom of my spine. My eyes were unable to shirk his, drawn completely into the deep and sensual grey of his irises. I found my mouth watering as he lingered just above me, not a single ounce of his body touching mine. He didn't need to touch me to send me into a complete and utter frenzy. And he knows it. Boy, does he know it.

"You're an extremely clever woman, Miss Steele," he whispered, his eyes tracing the contours of my face. "I like the way your brain works."

"Is that the only thing you like?" I gulped.

He edged closer, his lips a breath away from mine. "I like lots of things about you… I like the way your lips feel. I like the way you arch your neck when you come, the way you take a sharp breath when I first enter you…"

"Anyone would think you only want me for my body?" I muttered. His eyes flicked straight up to mine.

"Is that what you think?"

My breath caught in my throat.

He shook his head. "I've never wanted to fuck a woman more than I do you," he breathed out. "But neither have I ever wanted to hold their hand, cradle them in bed, text them first thing in the morning and last thing at night… It's more than sex to me, Ana. Already, it's so much more than that."

"I was joking…" I exhaled heavily.

"I wasn't," he closed his eyes and brought his lips to mine. It was a light kiss, nothing like the one he gave me in the private elevator at his office. That kiss was manic, needy and rushed. This kiss is sweeter, gentler, more focused.

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open, his apartment proudly on display behind him. He pulled away from me, letting his hands fall from the wall. He picked up my bag from the floor, using his other hand to grip mine. He drew me into his apartment and across the marbled floors, heading straight for the bar. On top of the granite surface there were two empty wine glasses, an open bottle of white next to it.

"Drink?" he raised his brow as he lifted the bottle. I nodded and watched as he poured it slowly down the inside of the glass, offering it out to me when he was finished.

I didn't wait for him to raise a toast. I took a sip and settled as the crisp, light fragrance tantalised my tongue.

Christian turned back towards me with his own glass in hand, as well as a wad of takeout menus.

"I thought we could order in food," he waved the menus, fanning them with his fingers. "I've given Mrs Jones the night off. You can choose."

I took the menus from him. I flipped through the pile, seeing Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Indian and Italian. I drifted towards the latter. Carbs are my friends and in the run up to my period, they are my best friends. I scanned my eyes down the list of pizza toppings.

"What do you prefer?" I asked him, lifting my gaze up to his eyes. He was mid-sip of his wine. "Because this is a make or break situation right now."

"How so?" he frowned a little.

"It all depends on how you answer this next question," I teased. "I'm gonna need an honest answer: what are your thoughts on pineapple on pizza?"

He paused for a second, the corners of his eyes creasing with the budding smile on his lips. I arched my brow as I prepared for his answer.

"I like it," he smirked.

"Oh…" I sucked in a breath and tutted, shaking my head. I could only keep up the pretence for a second, before I started grinning. "Right answer."

"Thank god for that," he chuckled over the brim of his glass.

"No one else likes Hawaiian. Everyone else I know thinks it is disgusting."

"Not me, baby," he shook his head. "I'm all in for the more exotic selections in life."

He winked as he put down his glass and reached into his pocket for his phone. He tapped away at the screen and then brought his chin up again, announcing that he'd ordered the pizza and it would be here in about thirty minutes. God bless the app.

"Are you staying over tonight?" Christian asked, breaking the ice and jumping to the question that had been turning in the back of my mind. His eyes fell to my duffle bag.

"I told Kate I'm staying out so I hope so," I snorted. "Is that okay?"

He nodded. "I hoped you would want to. I didn't ask earlier because I didn't want you to feel pressured into staying."

"That's very gentlemanly of you."

"I'm trying," he smiled shyly. He picked up his glass again and rounded the bar, heading for the couch by the window. He lounged back onto it, knees splayed. "Come here?"

I stepped down towards the couch and stood in front of him. He reached forward with his free hand and hooked his fingers through the loop on my waistband. With a sharp tug, he pulled me closer to his body. From his seated position, his mouth was in line with my belly button.

"We have thirty minutes until the food arrives," he let his fingers wander around my waist, a single finger tracing the small gap between my jeans and the hem of my shirt. "What could we possibly do in that time?"

"I was hoping to take a shower," I muttered, feeling the sudden urge to dip my fingers into his copper curls, pull his head back so I can smother him with a kiss. I didn't, though. "Freshen up a little."

"Sounds good to me," he purred, tilting his head back. He had that wicked look on his face, the one that I've come to associate with 'I'm hard and I'm ready to fuck you'. It's possibly my favourite look ever.

"Shame you've already showered, you could have joined me," I licked my lips and his hand moved around to my butt, kneading my cheek with the heel of his palm. "We could have lathered each other up and –"

"I'd rather watch you lather yourself," he cut in, yanking me forward. He buried his face into my stomach, breathing deeply. "I'm going to watch you undress and climb into the shower. I want to see you touch yourself. I want you to make yourself come for me, your eyes on me the whole time."

"And what will you be doing?" I asked.

He looked up at me through his lashes and smirked. "I'll be enjoying the view."

* * *

Christian eased my fore and middle fingers into his mouth, curling his tongue around them as he sucked hard. He went from base to tip, slowly sucking away the residue on my fingers. My breath caught in my throat, my heart fluttering at the sensual movements of his tongue.

"Delicious…" he smirked, finishing by pressing light kisses over my knuckles.

I nodded, gulping past the lump in my throat. With such composure, he returned to his slice of pizza. It took a while for my brain to catch up with my body, needing a minute or two. He has me hook, line and sinker.

"Eat up," he prompted me, eyeing up my relatively untouched slice. I've already chomped my way through half the pizza, not appreciating exactly how hungry I was until the pizza arrived. But then, I did work up quite an appetite earlier. After showering, Christian hauled me into his bedroom and had his wicked way with me. _Twice._

I picked at the toppings, tossing a piece of pineapple into my mouth and swallowing it whole. His eyes twitched as he watched me, a familiar glint in them. He shifted on his chair.

"You were clearly hungry," he observed, picking up a napkin to wipe at the corners of his mouth. "Have you eaten today?"

I arched my brow as I turned my chin his way.

He raised his hands, holding them up defensively. "I know. You don't want to be pestered on it. Ana, I just… I have issues with food."

"You don't say," I shook my head.

"I'm serious," he lowered his voice and looked away for a moment. "I don't like the idea of anyone going hungry. No one should ever feel sick with hunger, feel those debilitating cramps or the headaches that accompany it. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. I should know."

I examined the sombre expression that developed over his face as he spoke. The sadness that washed over him made my eyes sting.

"What happened?" I asked. He shook his head, ready to brush it off, but I persisted. "Please, tell me? You can trust me, Christian."

He hesitated, his eyes glancing all around the table and the food shared between us. I was half-expecting him to shy away from me, but I'm glad he didn't.

"I was adopted when I was four," he began, fiddling with his napkin. "Up until then I lived with my birth mother. She was a drug user and she prostituted herself to feed her addition. She needed it, couldn't live without it. Unfortunately, she didn't feel that same urge where food was concerned. I was left to fend for myself, so I'd eat whatever was available to me. Some days I would get by on chips, some days I would be forced to eat mouldy bread. But the vast majority of the time, I wouldn't eat at all."

"Christian…"

"It's fine," he shook his head. "When she died, I was left alone for three days. I don't think I'd eaten in the week preceding that, so I was lucky they found me when they did. I've seen my hospital notes from when I was admitted: I was on death's door… I remember that first night in the hospital. Grace brought me a full try of food. She had to tell me to slow down because I was eating it so fast. I cried when I saw the food."

"Grace was your doctor?"

He nodded. "She told her husband about me the next day, when her shift was over. I remember him coming to the hospital and looking at me through the window. They started the adoption process immediately. I was fostered for a few weeks before I was turned over to them… The idea of someone going hungry makes me mad, Ana. Too many people are starving, dying, all around the world. It's unnecessary. I know I annoy people, god knows I've driven my family crazy at times, but I can't help it."

"I understand," I reached across to him and placed my hand on his. His fingers twitched. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't need your sympathy," he shook his head once, just managing a slight smile. I knew he didn't mean it in a flippant way. I could tell just by looking in his eyes. "I don't mean to piss you off, it's just innate in me. I can't shake it."

"You don't need to," I squeezed his fingers. "If you'd just told me, I wouldn't have been so rude with you yesterday, when we were talking about your contract."

"You weren't rude," he dismissed that comment. "You had valid reasons."

"Still, I'll try to be more considerate where that's concerned," I said. "I can handle the food thing. I know now that it's coming from a good place. You just want me to be okay."

"I do," he nodded, his shoulders dropping with relief. I wondered then just how long he'd been keeping that a secret. "I'll try not to be overbearing with it. I am trying."

"I know you are," I smiled. "Is that why you have an NDA with your submissives? So none of this information gets out?"

He shook his head. "Submissives learn nothing about my private life outside of the playroom. You're the first woman I've told any of that to."

"Do you want me to sign the NDA?" I asked, sucking in my cheeks as I paused for his answer. "I wouldn't be offended if you do."

Christian examined my face for a moment, focusing mainly on my eyes. He hardly moved for a long while, until finally giving a gentle shake of his head. Nothing more was said on the matter. We just sat there, his hand in mine, taking in the honesty that was imparted. I returned to my pizza slice, while Christian stood up and left the room, wanting to collect something from his office.

He returned with three plastic-wrapped strips of paper. It piqued my interest immediately, my spine straightening in a bid to glimpse at was he was holding. He came back to me and perched on his seat.

"I bought these for you," he said, offering the packets to me. They were stickers – plain circular stickers, fifty in each packet. Traffic light colours: red, yellow and green.

"Okay, you've completely lost me now," I frowned.

"You said you want to go in the playroom and check it out before we do anything, see what I have," he explained. "There will be things you won't like and some stuff you will be unsure of, so I figured we could use these to label everything. Red for anything you don't want, yellow for unsure, green for what you're comfortable with."

My eyes widened. "That's actually a really good idea."

"Don't sound too surprised," he snorted. "I'd like to think I've become successful for my brains, not out of sheer luck."

"No, I'm just jealous I didn't think of it," I smiled. "So I can veto anything I don't like the look of?"

"I'd prefer it if we discussed it first," he offered. "How about we go through each thing one by one, I tell you what it is and what it's for, whether it'll hurt or not, and then you can tell me your initial thoughts? Sound like a good enough compromise?"

"Do I get the final say, though?"

"Absolutely," he nodded.

With that, I held out my hand and shook his, sealing the deal.

"You want to head in there now, bite the bullet?" he asked, turning his shoulders towards the staircase. "Just business, no pleasure until you're ready."

I smiled again and nodded, still remaining seated for the moment. "In a bit, I want to finish this pizza first. Pizza is always best when it's fresh."

"I agree," he grinned. "I was meaning to ask you: how did your appointment go today?"

I covered my mouth with my hand as I spoke. "It was good, thank you."

"Who did you see?"

"Dr Greene. She has an office on 15th Avenue."

"Jennifer," he nodded.

My brow furrowed. "You know her?"

"Only through my mother," he shook his head. "They work together on occasion. Jennifer and her husband regularly attend my mother's parties. She's very good, by all accounts. Very thorough."

"I liked her," I nodded. "She was really patient with me, explained my options."

"What did you decide?"

"The pill," I told him. "We decided it was the best option for me to start with, see how I get on with it."

"When do you start the course?"

"Monday," I explained. "I don't want to gross you out but my period is due on Monday, so she recommended that I start it then. I'll be protected almost immediately."

"Why would that gross me out?" he raised his brow. "It's a natural process. It's not disgusting and any man who thinks it is… well, they aren't worthy of calling themselves men."

I smirked at his reply. It was refreshing to hear that.

"I'll look forward to Monday then," he nodded. "I'll be glad to ditch the condoms, if I'm being completely honest with you."

"Do you hate wearing them?"

He shrugged. "I'd prefer to come inside you, rather than in a piece of saran wrap. I can't wait to feel all of you, claim you as mine once and for all."

I pressed my thighs together and dropped my gaze, feeling my chest flush. I'm looking forward to Monday too…

* * *

I didn't feel as unnerved about entering Christian's playroom this time around. The shock factor had mostly worn off, though some of the items he showed me did make my eyes water. We began slowly, tackling the stuff on display: whips, canes, floggers. When I made my decisions, he peeled off the appropriate sticker and placed it where necessary. He said that anything with red on it will be removed later. I'll never have to see them again unless I specifically ask it.

There are more yellow coded items than red or green. Most of the green items were stored in the long mahogany cabinet, where he keeps a vast selection of sex toys.

"This is the biggest I have," Christian raised an impossibly large dildo, still in its plastic casing. My eyes widened and my mouth fell open. I accepted it from him and examined it close up.

"Are you serious? No. That looks painful."

"Red?"

"Red," I nodded and passed it back to him. "Out of all of them, I prefer that one –" I pointed at the first toy he showed me: a dark pink toy that didn't look anything like the others.

"The vibrator," he smiled. "I think you'll like it. It has six intensity settings."

"Can I take it home with me?" I asked, feeling brazen after having been in here for a while. I don't feel awkward or shy looking at these sorts of things. I'm actually intrigued by them, ready to test them out and give my orgasmic feedback.

"Only on one condition," he tilted his head. "You call me and let me listen while you're using it."

"Phone sex? You don't want to watch me using it instead?"

His mouth twitched into a wicked smirk. "Now you're talking… Especially after the show you gave me in the shower earlier," he winked.

I bit down on my lip as he took the vibrator from the drawer and placed it on top of the cabinet. We continued through the remaining drawers, finding a unique rhythm that suited us both.

I walked over to the bed and sat down on the red silk sheets, taking a breather while Christian finished up. I looked around the room, taking in all the coloured dots and the disruption to the pristine displays. I've made my mark.

My gaze fell on Christian, his back to me as he tidied the drawers. To look at him, you wouldn't think he had suffered such grief as a child. His revelation earlier stunned me. More so at how open he was with it, how easily he shared it with me. Yesterday he told me that certain aspects of his life were off limits – is that what he meant?

Or did he mean his relationship with Ms Lincoln?

Deep in my stomach I can feel the information Cal told me bubbling away, unsettling me. It needs to be released.

"Christian?"

"Yes?" he turned back towards me, an expectant look on his face.

"You know the point I made in my contract, about learning more about you?" I asked. He nodded. "I want to know more about you, about the private you."

His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing with caution. "What do you mean?"

"I have questions."

"About what? My childhood?" he wondered. "Because I've already shared an enormous amount of information with you tonight."

"I know," I nodded. "I'm not going to pester you on that. I know you were kinda uncomfortable talking about it earlier, so it's fine if you don't want to talk about that again."

"I don't like talking about it," he confirmed.

"But I do have some questions about all of this," I gestured around the room. His expression relaxed slightly, feeling on safer ground. "You already told me that you were introduced to this by someone, but I have some stuff I want to ask you about that."

"Okay," he nodded. Closing the door on the cabinet, he came towards me and stood in front of me, arms crossed. "What do you want to know?"

"You've had fifteen submissives, right?" I remembered him saying something like that before.

He nodded. "Yes. Fifteen women who were contracted to be my submissives. But the woman who introduced me to this subbed for me. She allowed me to train as a dominant on her."

My stomach rolled.

"You don't count her as a submissive then?"

He shook his head. "She's a dominant. She always has been. She just allowed me to explore my tastes, before I moved on from her."

I nodded and took a deep breath. "And how many of those fifteen submissives did Ms Lincoln hire for you?"

His gaze narrowed. "What?"

"How many subs did Ms Lincoln arrange for you? How many of them came to you by her recommendation?" I rephrased my questioning.

"Ana, where are you going with this?" he arms tightened, protecting his chest.

"How many?" I persisted.

He shook his head. "A handful, I don't know… but how did you –?"

"When were you going to tell me that you were in a relationship with Ms Lincoln?"

My question pierced the air, surprising both of us as the words came out of my mouth in a steady, uncalculated manner. I stared up at him and watched as the colour in his cheeks and eyes drained. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

"Ana…" he exhaled deeply.

"I think we need to talk, don't you?"

He nodded, rocking on the balls of his feet. He looked all around him. "We can't talk in here. It doesn't feel right."

"Okay, let's go downstairs then," I offered and rose from the bed. I smoothed down the t-shirt I had borrowed from him after my shower.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, his eyes unable to shift from mine, his feet unmoving from their spot on the floor. "I didn't…"

"Will you tell me everything now?" I pressed him. "Because I think I deserve to know, seeing as I'm working for her."

"I promise to tell you the truth," he nodded.

"That's not the same thing."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll tell you what you need to know. Just please, don't run. Let me explain first?"

I reached out with my hands and placed them on his forearms. I ran my fingers through the dark hair, until I came to his hands. I peeled them from his body and gripped them tight.

"Just be honest with me," I whispered. "That's all I'm asking."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," I shook my head and led him out of the playroom. I don't know if even I believed the words coming out of my mouth.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**(Slowly - _sheepishly_ \- emerging from the rock I've been hiding under...)**

**Hello My Lovelies,**

**I hope you're all well and having a good weekend? I know it's been a very long time and for that I am very sorry! Over the summer I made the decision to focus on my other story and wrap that up before returning to Maîtrise. I truly admire any writer who can keep up with more than one story and still manage to keep their personal lives in check. Because god knows my personal life went to shit and that's not a good recipe for inspiration.**

**Apologies to any reviews I haven't replied to - there are bugs on this site, as I'm sure many of you already know! Please be assured that I read everything and I'm very grateful for your comments and support. :)**

**I hope you like it. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

**BRIEF RECAP FOR THOSE OF US WHO NEED IT (I certainly did!):** Ana and Christian worked through their 'contracts' and compromised on how best to navigate this relationship - fifty fifty all the way! Ana saw Dr Greene and sorted out her contraception, all good - no babies, thank you very much. That evening, Ana and Christian have dinner at Escala and he reveals the reason for his issue surrounding food. Later, they go into the playroom with traffic-light stickers - marking the toys/equipment Ana doesn't want to use, is unsure of, likes the look of. Ana challenges Christian about his relationship with Elena. (Cal told her about them after Elena was a cow to Ana. Again!) This literally picks up at the end of the last chapter. Enjoy! x

* * *

"More wine?" Christian asked as he lifted the half-empty bottle in the air.

I arched my brow, looking up at him from my spot on the larger of the three couches. He was stood at the bar, the distance between us growing by the second. We'd left his playroom hand in hand, but he dropped his fingers from mine as soon as we reached the staircase. He hung back, three paces behind.

"Am I going to need it?" I wondered. My stomach is already churning, nerves crippling me.

"I think so," he sighed, nodding his head once.

Not a good sign.

He moved forward and stretched across the table, pouring a generous helping of wine into my glass. I reached for it as soon as he'd finished, needing a sip to calm my insides. It tasted bitter, not crisp and fresh like it did earlier. He topped up his own glass and dropped the bottle onto the bar, before taking up a seat at the end of the couch. Just about as far away from me as possible, a long stretch of cushion dividing us.

I can see him tensing up, mentally preparing for this conversation. Wasn't that what I'd been doing all evening? Waiting for the right moment to bring it up? I had caught him off guard and it shows. He looks confused and anxious. At least we still have that much in common. I'm struggling to get my head around this.

Ms Lincoln is my boss. I'm sleeping with Christian. We have a thing – a relationship? An arrangement?

He was in a relationship with her.

They had sex. They were intimate with each other.

But the part that upsets me the most, is that I had to find this out from somebody else. He didn't think to tell me this before.

_Shit, what a bloody mess this has become_…

Christian crossed his legs and leaned back against the arm of the couch. His eyes were downcast and avoiding mine at all costs. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut in first. Thankfully.

"When did you find out?" he asked.

"Earlier today."

"How?"

"Cal told me," I mumbled, unable to lift my voice higher than a whisper. "We had breakfast after my shift. We talked."

His eyes shot up to mine, narrow and twitching at the corners. His fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. It's obvious that Cal and Christian don't get along, that they distrust one another. Two brooding males… it's a recipe for disaster.

"I'm glad he told me," I added. "I should have been told about this before… I mean, were you ever going to tell me?"

"No," he admitted, shaking his head. He took another gulp of his wine and then shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't see why you needed to know about it."

"What?" I frowned, jerking my head back. "Are you serious? I work for her."

"You work for both of us," he corrected me.

"And that makes this easier?" I shot back. "Jesus, Christian… I have been wondering for months why she hates me so much, and you've known all along but didn't think to tell me? _Warn_ me?

"She doesn't hate you," he tutted.

"Well I'd hate to know how she treats people she actually likes," I huffed. "You should have told me why she's been making my life hell."

"I don't know why Elena does anything," he sighed. "She does what she wants. I'm not inside her head."

"Come on, it's so obvious." I rolled my eyes. Why doesn't he get this? "She's not happy because we're seeing each other. She knows about us."

"No," he shook his head. "She doesn't. She can't."

I cocked my head to the side. "Oh really? How would you know? You're not inside her head," I mocked, throwing his words back at him.

He shot me a glance that made me shift on my seat, a knot tightening in the centre of my chest.

"If Elena had even a niggle of doubt, she'd confront me about this," he explained, his tone harsh and cutting. I didn't like it. "She would call me out on how fucking stupid I've been. I know she would. She wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut."

Cal said that too, I remembered. But I didn't agree with either of them. There's more to this than just her being a cow.

"Why is she doing this then?" I breathed. "Why would she make me work extra shifts, if not to keep me away from you? Why would she order me to go upstairs in the club, when she knows perfectly well that I'm not supposed to know what's up there?"

His face softened a little, changing shape in an instant. It was as if someone had just tripped a switch in his mind. He squinted his eyes and raised his chin, his lips slightly pursed.

"She did what?"

"I went to see her in the office and before I left the room, she told me to take a box upstairs and unload it in the closet," I said shakily. "She told me to remember my place and that she's the boss."

"She threatened you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know if it was a threat. More like a warning."

"What happened then?"

"Cal caught me heading upstairs and he was pissed off," I answered. "He worked out what was going on and then I explained properly after our shift. That's when he told me about you and her, about your relationship, about how she lines up women for you to sleep with."

"Is he going to keep quiet about us?" he asked.

I was taken aback by his question. Is that really the only thing he's worried about? Whether Cal is going to tell on us?

"Yes," I nodded. "He said he wouldn't say anything and I believe him. He only cares that I'm safe and happy… Unlike your ex-girlfriend."

"For fucks sake," he huffed and threw back his head. His hand shot up to his face, his fingers pressing hard into his brow. "What I had with Elena, it wasn't like that. It wasn't like this – _us_."

"What was it then?"

"Sex!" he snapped. He brought his head back into place but deterred his eyes. "It was just sex. She was my domme. I was her submissive for a few years and when I told her I wanted to be in control, we switched roles and I practiced on her. That's it."

"You make it sound so normal," I sighed under my breath and took another glug from my glass. I almost finished it whole, gasping as I came back up for air. "I need more than that, Christian. I want the whole story. It's the least I deserve."

"Why?" he frowned. "What good is it going to do, knowing all of the ins and outs of what we did?"

"Well, for a start, I don't want to know the graphic details. I'm pretty sure I can work out what the in and out is," I squirmed, shaking that image out of my head. "Just give me the basics."

"Why?" he repeated.

"Because I need to know what I've got myself into here."

He paused for a moment and then nodded.

"So you can decide whether or not you want out of this nightmare?" he fathomed, his tone tinged with sadness and expectation. It made my throat tighten. "Will you at least hear me out before you run out of the door?"

I nodded my head. "I just need to know what I'm up against."

"You're not up against anything," he dismissed with a brush of his hand. "That side of our… _friendship_… it ended a long time ago."

I didn't say anything at first. I didn't want to interrupt and give him a reason to stop talking. Instead, I raised my glass and sipped it slowly, rhythmically. He mirrored my action, finishing his glass before shoving it back onto the coffee table. The clash of glass on glass made me jump, every fibre of my body more fragile than earlier this evening.

Christian sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head to the side. His darkened eyes stared out of the window behind us, roaming the inky sky peppered with white lights. I could see his mind ticking over at double speed, the anguish etched over his brow.

"It started when I was fifteen," he began, his voice quiet and uneven. He didn't look at me once. "I knew Elena for a few years before anything happened. She is friends with my mother."

"Some friend," I muttered under my breath.

"She was thirty-six when it started," he continued, as if he hadn't heard me.

My mouth fell open. I knew she was older than him but…

"You were fifteen?" I whispered. He nodded. "But… but she was more than double your age."

"I'm quite aware of that," he retorted. "I was mature for my age. I felt a lot older than I was… I was going through a rough patch. I was stealing from my family, drinking myself stupid. I was failing school and no one could help me. I was angry and confused but Elena… she showed me a way to channel all of that, pull myself together. She helped me."

I bit my tongue. Bringing my feet up onto the couch, I hitched my knees up to my chest and hugged them tight against me. My stomach is jumping with every word coming out of his mouth.

"I put my parents through hell. I was destroying them," he sighed, the memory causing his eyes to squeeze shut. His fingers traced his jaw, scratching at his stubble. "My mother confided in Elena and she offered to help. She needed someone to clear up the backyard, mow the lawn, that sort of thing, so she paid me to go over to her house once a week. It was something to focus on, keep me out of trouble… I had only been working there for a few weeks when I tried to steal some cash from her purse. She caught me red-handed and slapped me straight across the face. And then she kissed me."

Acid rose in the back of my throat. I rolled my lips inward to stop myself from puking all over his couch.

"It was a slow burner," he added. "But there was a pattern. If she heard I'd fucked up again, she'd hit me – slap me, whip a towel across the back of my legs. If I impressed her and kept my nose clean, she'd kiss me, she'd drop to her knees and –"

He stopped, censoring himself. He blinked slowly, hesitating before continuing with his train of thought.

"She eventually told me that she was into BDSM. She and her husband were into that sort of thing, but she always had to be the sub," he said. "But she was a dominant through and through and she wanted me to submit to her. She showed me their playroom and that's how it began. I felt safe with her because we had rules. There were things she didn't like and stuff I didn't want to happen. We had a balance. I stopped fucking around. I graduated high school because of her. I'm being serious when I say this, but I wouldn't be here right now if she hadn't done what she did."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he nodded. His eyes fell to the space between us, focusing on a small patch on the cushion. "I would be in jail. I was seriously fucked up back then, more so than I am now… For a couple of years, I was her sub. I gave myself freely and without hesitation and it felt good at first. But it wasn't for me. I needed control, needed a way to get my anger out in a safe way. So she agreed to switch roles and allow me to dominate her. She trained me."

"How long did it go on for?" I asked.

"Six years," he shrugged his shoulders. "I broke off our arrangement. Things had been tense for a while. Elena is a domme and that showed, even when she was subbing for me. It caused too many arguments between us… She didn't take it well."

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't want it to end," he explained. "She gave me money to kick-start my business as a way of softening me up, stop me from walking away from what we had. And like a fucking idiot, I took the money and still ended it. I upset her when I did that."

"And somehow you're still friends with her?"

"Our friendship isn't…" He shook his head. "What you have with your roommate, I don't have that with Elena. I feel a sense of responsibility to her."

I frowned at him and tilted my head to the side.

"The money she gave me for GEH," he continued. "That belonged to her husband. When he found out what she'd done and the reason why, he snapped. He beat her to a pulp. She was in hospital for weeks afterwards and it was my fault. I should have refused the money, but I didn't. He divorced her and left her with nothing… I carry that guilty with me every time I have to look at her, Ana. Because all I can see are the bruises that bastard gave her."

"That's why you invest in her business?"

"She helped me out and look what happened to her," he nodded once. "Offering to foot the bill for a new club or a fucking salon is nothing to me. She had her spleen removed because she wanted to help me start up my business. A couple thousand dollars is nothing in comparison."

We were silent for a few minutes, neither of us knowing what to say. I tapped my fingers against my shins as a million and one questions whirled inside my head, each one desperate for an answer. Some of them will have to wait. I need to think this over first…

"Is it true what Cal told me?" I asked after a painful silence. My question finally brought his gaze to me. His eyes were narrow and almost black under the dimmed lights overhead. "About her lining up women for you?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Elena knows my type and she has connections."

"You have a type?"

He nodded again. "Brunette. Long hair. Caucasian… She would recommend submissives to me. Sometimes I would meet with them, sometimes I wouldn't."

I looked down at myself, the waves of dark hair hanging over my shoulders, my pale skin.

"How many did you meet with?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I don't know the exact number. Four, maybe five. It could be more."

"Was she lining me up as your next sub when she interviewed me?" I blurted, surprising him with my frank question. "I fit the bill, right?"

"Elena interviewed you because you were the only person who applied for the job," he said, choosing to ignore my last comment. "Regardless of what she says, the club doesn't attract a lot of outside interest and she struggled to convince employees from the East coast to make the move here… She hired you because I asked her to. I wanted you there because I was attracted to you and I wanted to approach you about becoming my submissive, but she told me to keep my distance. She said you weren't sub material."

"Maybe she had a point," I blew out in a long breath. "She's desperate to keep us apart."

"Elena likes to play matchmaker," he told me. "She does it at the club all the time. She matches subs and doms. She's a meddler…"

"You need to find out what she's playing at," I urged him, looking him in the eye. "She's already screwed me over where my shifts are concerned, and now she's added stuff into my contract."

"Your contract?" he frowned.

"For the club," I explained. "I've been there 3-months now. She added in clauses about random drug testing, inter-employee relationships. Anyone found to be dating or having sex with a member of staff or management, their employment will be terminated with immediate effect."

He jerked his head back. "That's the first I've heard of this."

"Cal didn't even know about the changes until a few days ago," I added. "He thinks it's because she suspects something is going on."

"You signed the contract?"

I nodded. "Before my shift began. That's why I had to see her in the office, to get her to sign it too."

"You didn't think to take it away with you?" his frown deepened. "Read it over? Consult someone on it?"

I rolled my lips inward again, suddenly feeling as if I'm about to be chastised. "I thought it'd look as if I was hiding something," I shook my head. "I don't know… I did read it. Cal went through it with me."

He sighed and dragged his hand down his face. "Never sign on the spot," he warned. "It doesn't matter what it's for, don't ever sign your name there and then. Always take it away and think it over."

I shifted on my seat.

"I've signed my own death warrant, haven't I?" I grimaced.

"I'll get a copy of it and read it through," he shook his head. "I didn't know she'd changed the contract. She's supposed to run those sorts of things past me first."

"Are you going to talk to her about us?"

"No," he shook his head. "That will make things worse. I'll tell her to back off, though. I won't let her fuck this up for us."

I should have felt relieved in hearing that, but I didn't.

"Cal is going to re-work my shifts," I explained. "He's going to try and work it so our paths never cross. He said she's usually busy with her other business."

"She is," he nodded. "She has four salons in Washington. She flits between them."

"It's going to mean a drop in my salary but I can handle that. I'll do anything to avoid her."

"If money's a problem –"

I lifted my hand up and silenced him with my finger. I shook my head. "If there's one thing I learnt from being unemployed for eight months, it's how to budget my finances. I can cope. I don't need charity… I need a new job."

I bowed my head and cupped the back of my neck, pressing deep into the tense muscles cradling my spine.

"I'm waiting to hear back from those applications I made a few days ago," I told him. "All I want is an interview."

"I said I would help you with that," he reminded me. "I meant what I said, Ana. Anything you want, I'll do it. I'll make it happen."

_Make Ms Lincoln disappear?_

I just nodded my head at him. I didn't feel like rehashing that conversation. I am grateful for his offer of help. My pride is getting in the way, I know it is, but maybe it's high time I swallowed my ego and just give in? He did offer to look at my résumé…

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

I shot my eyes up at him and searched those steal grey irises. I ribbed my lower lip between my teeth and then shook my head.

"Is it definitely over between you and her?"

"Yes," he nodded quickly, without even thinking about the question.

"When was the last time you…?"

I couldn't even bring myself to say it out loud.

"2005," he stated, his gaze fixed on mine. "My sexual interest in her ended a very long time ago. That ship has sailed and it's never coming back."

"Does your mother know?"

"Nobody knows about us except Elena's ex, you and Caleb," he sighed Cal's name, disgust present in his voice. "As far as my mother is concerned, I'm either celibate and saving myself for marriage, or I'm gay and in denial. Which works for me. The less she knows the better."

Another short pause settled between us.

"Were you really fifteen?"

He nodded.

"That's so wrong…" I shook my head. "You were a child."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not the first kid to lose their virginity at 15," he shrugged. "There are kids fooling around much younger than that these days."

"There's a big difference between two 15-year-olds having sex and a grown woman preying on a teenager," I shot back with an unfamiliar harshness to my voice. It came from nowhere, unnerving both of us. "Jesus Christ…"

Christian didn't say anything. He let me stew over my frustration.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head is pounding now. It feels like my eyes are going to pop out of my skull.

"You should have told me," I muttered quietly. "I shouldn't have to learn about this from Cal, or anybody else for that matter. I get that you're a private person but this affects me, Christian."

"I'm sorry you found out the way you did," he apologised.

I lifted my eyes to his. "Are you sorry that I heard it from Cal or sorry that I found out in the first place?"

His jaw clenched. His refusal to answer the question told me that it was very much the latter of the two.

"I can't change my past," he finally said. "This is who I am, Ana. It's a part of me. Take it or leave it."

Does that mean she's always going to be a part of his life?

Can I handle that?

I inhaled a deep breath and dropped my chin onto my knees. I turned my head to the side and let my eyes scour the landscape, the wall of windows affording me a 180 view of the city. Some of the white lights remained static and bright, whilst others were extinguished with the blink of an eye, darkness replacing that tiny part of the sky.

After a few seconds, I stood up from the couch. I smoothed down my navy coloured pyjama pants. I'd changed into them after my shower earlier, having brought extra clothes in my duffel bag. I tugged my white camisole over my stomach, fidgeting with the frayed hem.

I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head. He was twitching on the couch, uncrossing his legs and placing both feet back on the floor.

"I'm tired," I whispered. "I think we both need to sleep on this… I need to sleep on this."

He rose to his feet and took a small step forward. His hands fell down to his sides and in the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers extend out to me. He held them out for only a second, before quickly shoving them deep into his pockets.

"Did you…" He cleared his throat. "Did you want to go home or…?"

"No." I stole a second before looking up at him. I immediately wish I hadn't. The sombre look shadowing his face made my heart burn. "I'm staying. If you'll have me?"

"Of course," he exhaled harshly, his shoulders dropping forward.

"Your bed is a lot comfier than mine," I joked, but no laughter seeped into my voice.

I slid my feet across the floor and headed towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. I stopped in the middle of the foyer and glanced back over my shoulder. He was still rooted to the floor, his hands in his pockets, those eyes glued to me.

"Are you coming?"

"In a minute," he nodded. "Go on ahead."

I turned back around and carried myself into his room, my arms crossed around my front. I left the door wide open, ready for him.

I didn't bother turning on any of the lights. I simply crept over to his bed and peeled back the comforter, slipping in between the icy cold sheets. The mattress embraced me like a hug, but I didn't feel that sense of security I so desperately craved in that moment. I curled up on the left-hand side of the bed, my head settling on a pillow that smelt of Christian.

I prayed that he would join me in a minute, that I could feel his warmth before I fall asleep. But the harsh reality is, some prayers are left unanswered…


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Camillehenley3g** – Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter. :) I hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Confused** – Thank you. Christian is a complicated character, but I hope this chapter will answer some of your concerns. He's got a lot of learning to do and he will realise quite soon exactly what type of person Elena is. Much Love x

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**19** – Thank you. As I've said a million times over, I try to update as soon and as much as I can. Sometimes I can bash out chapters on a weekly basis, sometimes I can't. It's not by choice – I just have a lot on my plate. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

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* * *

**Hello to my lovelies from all corners of the world!**

**Thank you for the love and support on the last chapter. As always, I hope this chapter reaches you in good health! :)**

**If you get a chance, have a listen of the song mentioned. It's one of my favourites and I loved listening to it whilst writing that particular scene. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I kicked the comforter off my feet and huffed into the darkness. I was beyond restless, sleep evading my grip every time I reached out for it. When I did finally drift off, it didn't last. My mind became clouded with strange and repetitive dreams.

I was in the middle of an empty room, a ball room with swathes of gold silk hanging from the ceiling. I was wearing a long white dress, my gloved hands raised and resting on an invisible person. _Dancing_. I was dancing with a ghost partner… An orchestra played a haunting melody, the pulse of their piece matching my rapid heartbeat.

It was just me and the ghost, but then it changed. Other couples appeared from nowhere, men and women circling me, laughing and grinning. I didn't recognise anyone. Only Christian. He was the last to appear. He was beside me, dancing with another woman. His hands were resting on her waist, her body pressed against his. Both dressed in black, the only thing distinguishing them was his copper hair and her platinum blonde curls.

Rolling onto my back, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. I pushed my fingers back through my fringe, shoving it off my clammy forehead. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I have no idea what time it is or how long I've been stirring.

I turned my head to the side and slid my right hand across the empty space beside me. The sheets were crumpled and hanging off the edge of the mattress, but they felt warm underneath my fingers. Christian came into the bedroom a few minutes after I had. He disappeared into the closet before quietly climbing under the comforter. I didn't turn to look at him, but I did feel his body brush against mine.

How long has he been gone? I didn't feel him get out of bed.

I sat up and threw a glance towards the bedroom door. It was closed, no light creeping under it. It took all of my energy to crawl across the bed and clamber to my feet.

As I cracked open the door, I heard music echoing off the walls. I paused and listened to the soft tinkling of piano keys. It was a heavy tune. It drew me in, beckoning me out of the bedroom and across the marbled floor.

Christian was sat at the piano, hunched over the keys, swaying as he played the tense composition. He was the only visible thing in the whole of the apartment, his face illuminated by a nearby lamp. There was a deep furrow in his brow and his eyes were squeezed shut.

He didn't notice I was there until I was at his side, my hand settling on his arm.

"Ana –" he blew out my name in a harsh breath, his fingers slamming down on the keys.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He shook his head and sat back on the bench. He budged up to the far end, making room for me to sit down beside him. I straddled the seat, facing him head-on.

"Did I wake you?" he asked as he collapsed the fall board. His voice was laden with exhaustion.

"No," I shook my head. "I was stirring –"

"I know," he nodded, cutting me off. He turned his chin towards me and an apologetic smile developed over his lips. "That's why I came out here. I couldn't keep still and you were becoming restless. I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't," I assured him. "I couldn't sleep. Not properly, at least… I didn't realise you were gone."

He gave me another smile and nodded his head.

"What were you playing?" I asked, tilting my head towards the piano. "I've never heard that before."

"Chopin's Nocturne, number 20," he replied. "It's one of my favourite pieces… I always play it when I can't sleep. It helps distract me."

"From what?"

"Myself?" he admitted after a slight pause. His smile dropped instantly.

I examined his profile for a few minutes, trying to gauge what was going on behind those dark grey eyes.

"Were you having a nightmare?" I wondered, the question breaking through the room with an echo. I recalled him mentioning his night terrors before.

He shook his head. "No. Not tonight," he said. "I haven't had a nightmare when I'm with you. It's the only time I've actually been able to get a good night's sleep."

"So how come tonight is different?"

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, dropping his gaze to his hands.

"I… I find it difficult to talk about my private life," he muttered, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "I only ever discuss that stuff with my therapist. In his office, just him and me, three hours every week. Dredging it up tonight, in my home… it's just a lot to take in."

I leaned forward and rested my chin on his shoulder. I wanted to say sorry to him, but I couldn't get the words out. I had pushed him into having that conversation with me, but what choice did I have?

He didn't give me time to apologise. He inhaled a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, forcing me off him.

"You don't have to worry about Elena," he promised me, taking my hand in his. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. It made my skin tingle. "I will talk to her, tell her to back off."

"How?" I sighed quietly. "You don't want anyone to know about us, least of all her. The only way you'd know what happened is if I told you. She'll –"

"I'll figure something out," he interrupted, squeezing my fingers. "Just leave Elena to me. All you need to do is focus on finding a new job."

_Time to swallow my pride_…

"I might need your help with that," I whispered. He snapped his eyes up to mine, his brow raised. "Does your offer to check over my résumé still stand?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"And would you be able to give me some interview tips, for when I do eventually get invited to one?"

"I'll do whatever you want," he repeated his words from earlier. "I mean it, Ana. If you want a job in the best publishing house in America, I will find you one and make sure you start first thing on Monday morning."

"Somehow I don't think you're exaggerating?"

"I'm not," he confirmed. "I want you out of that club and if I had my way, you'd never step foot in their again."

"But…?"

"But," he gave a sigh. "I will respect your wishes and let you handle this on your own. Even though it kills me to sit back and do nothing."

"Thank you," I smiled.

"I do get the whole 'I want to do this on my own' thing. I had that attitude when I started up GEH."

"You had a huge hand-out from the bitch troll, though," I reminded him, the corners of my mouth drooping.

"I did, yes, but I still had to work hard to succeed," he explained. He was about to continue but stopped himself, jerking his head to the side. Narrowing his eyes, he stared down at me and pursed his lips. "_Bitch troll?_"

Shit, did I say that out loud?

"Did you just call her a bitch troll?" he asked, his expression fixed. I nodded my head slowly. His lips curled into a smile. "I like that… That's funny."

I didn't know how to react to that. He's okay with me insulting his _friend?_ I'd flip out if someone insulted Kate…

"Don't look so confused," he urged me, offering another kiss to my knuckles. "I wasn't lying when I said that me and Elena don't have a real friendship. We don't sit around doing each other's hair, I don't go to her for advice or anything."

"What do you go to her for?"

He brushed his fingers across his lips, wiping away his smile.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "A few months ago, I probably would have said submissives. In the past, I've relied on her to find them for me."

"Why?"

"When I'm busy," he began, "the last thing I want to do is go to a club and scout for a sub. It was easier for her to find them for me, give me a list choose from."

"And you trusted her opinion?"

"In the past, yes."

"But not anymore?"

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't ask her to do that for me again."

"Why not?"

His eyes roamed my face, settling on my lips for far too long. "Because I have you," he finally answered. "I don't need her to find me someone else. I don't want anyone else."

A small part of me instantly rebuked his words – telling me that his hesitation was a sign he didn't mean what he was saying, that his interest in me is only temporary.

But there was sincerity in his eyes and, in that moment, that was all the affirmation I needed.

"Are you tired?" he asked. I blinked slowly, bringing myself out of my thoughts. He raised his hand to my face and stroked his fingers down my flushed cheek. "You should go back to bed. It's three a.m."

I looked past him and out of the window. The inky sky was stained with thick clouds.

We should both get some sleep. It's been a long evening.

I nodded and stood up from the bench, stepping out from behind the piano. I faced him and held out my hand.

"Are you coming with me?" I gestured towards the bedroom. He stared at my palm. "You look exhausted, Christian. You need to sleep."

"I don't know if I can," he whispered back at me.

"Try, maybe?"

"You won't be able to sleep if I'm stirring –"

"I will," I shook my head and stretched my hand out a little further. "Please? I'll sleep much better if you're next to me."

With a sigh, Christian placed his hand in mine. His fingers instinctively filled the gaps between my own, as if the spaces were made for him and him alone. He reached across and turned off the lamp, before taking the lead and escorting me back to his room.

I crawled back over his mattress and settled down underneath the comforter. The bed dipped as he climbed in, his body shuffling to my side. His arm came around my waist as his hips cradled mine from behind.

"Better?" he mumbled into my ear, his stubbly chin pressing down on my shoulder.

"Much better," I smiled.

I wriggled against him, enjoying the feel of him wrapped around me.

"You're the only woman who has ever shared this bed with me," he reminded me. His hand crept up my front, his fingers splaying across my chest, feeling for my heartbeat.

"No one else has ever slept in this bed?"

"No one else," he promised. "Just you and me."

_Just me._

* * *

"Ana?"

I felt a warm hand encircle my shoulder as Christian's voice lulled me from sleep. I rolled my head towards his voice and cracked open my eyes. The sun was wild and bright, haloing his body as he sat in front of me.

Looking down the length of him, I noticed that he was fully dressed in a white shirt and dark grey slacks. A frown spread across my brows.

"What are you doing?" I choked, my throat feeling tight and scratchy.

"I need to leave," he announced. "I have a breakfast meeting."

"Oh?" I mouthed. "Erm, what time is it?"

"Almost seven," he nodded. His hand crept across my shoulder and up my throat. "I just wanted you to know where I'd gone."

I smiled as his thoughtfulness. I reached for his hand. "If you wait a few minutes, I'll grab my –"

"Shh…" he silenced me, squinting his eyes. "Go back to sleep."

"But you're leaving…"

"I want you to stay," his eyes bore deep into mine. "I'll be back here for lunch. I thought we could eat together."

I sat up against the pillows and glanced around the room.

"But I'll be here on my own," I shook my head, the idea sounding more ridiculous by the second.

"Mrs Jones will be here," he corrected me.

"What am I supposed to do while you're at work?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Watch TV, read a book, use my computer… Do whatever you want. Just please, stay? I'll be back by twelve-thirty at the latest."

I cocked my head to the side. "It'll feel really weird…"

"Why?"

"Because this is your apartment," I reminded him. "I've only been here a couple of times. Are you sure you want a stranger to be left alone in your house?"

"You're hardly a stranger, Ana," he snorted a laugh.

"I'm more of a stranger than a friend," I shot back, my voice sounding emotionless and cold.

"I guess I'll just have to trust my instincts then," he nodded. Leaning forward, he brought his lips to mine. He tasted of peppermint. "I don't think you'll rob me blind. You're not the type."

"You've probably got a safe with an impossibly complex twelve-digit code, haven't you?" I wondered.

"Eight-digits," he winked. "And I think you'd be able to figure it out, if you really put your mind to it."

I didn't know what he meant by that. I thought about our date on _The Grace_, the password on his cell phone… _Anastasia_.

"Are we okay now?" he asked, changing the tone of our conversation. "I am sorry you had to find out the way you did, but it doesn't affect what we have. It doesn't affect how I feel about you."

"It doesn't?"

"Not in the slightest," he shook his head. "Elena is your boss and my business partner. Whatever happened between her and I is ancient history. All I care about is what's happening right now… all that matters to me is that I have a beautiful woman in my bed and I have to go to a fucking meeting, when all I really want to do is fuck her into the middle of next week."

I squeezed my thighs together. "You could always call in sick," I gulped.

"I wish I could," he smirked. "The sooner I leave, the sooner I'll be back. In the meantime, keep the bed warm for me?"

I gave in and lay down, pulling the comforter up to my chin. He stood up and stretched over me, granting me another minty kiss.

"Twelve-thirty?"

"I'll text you when I'm on my way back," he nodded. "I'll see you later."

"Laters," I mumbled.

He shook his head and laughed his way to the door, slipping out of sight before I could call him back and insist that he follow through with his comments about fucking me into next week...

* * *

After a nap, I took a shower and changed into the extra clothes I brought with me. By the time I had dried off, I was starving and in need of breakfast.

I heard Mrs Jones before I saw her, the quiet clatter of pots and pans reminding me that I wasn't alone. I slowed my steps as I approached the kitchen, not wanting to startle her.

"Good morning," she greeted me, snapping her head up as I came to a stop in the archway. She smoothed down her apron and wiped her hand across her brow, disturbing the tendrils of sand-coloured hair that had fallen into her eyes. "It's lovely to see you again, Miss Steele."

"Please, call me Ana," I smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," she nodded and returned my smile. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded and looked around the gleaming countertops. The kitchen was bare, except for an expensive coffee maker and a fruit basket by the refrigerator. I glanced at the cabinets, wondering where Christian would keep a box of cereal. Does he even have cereal?

"Can I get you anything?" Mrs Jones asked, reading my mind. "Would you like a drink, something to eat?"

"Um, yeah, thanks," I nodded, wringing my hands together in front of me. "If you point me in the right direction, I'll sort it myself."

"Don't be silly," she waved her hand at me. She rushed to the sink to wash her hands. "Now, what would you like?"

"You're busy –"

"It would be my pleasure to make you something to eat," she shook her head and gave me another soft smile. It was impossible to say no to her. "Would you like an omelette? Maybe some pancakes?"

"An omelette would be great," I decided.

I imagined that Christian had played a part in her insistence to make me breakfast. If she's under strict instruction, I don't want to get her in trouble.

I pulled out one of the stools at the breakfast bar and sat down, watching as Mrs Jones fleeted around the kitchen. She knew exactly where everything was, no hesitation in her actions. She looked at home, as if she spends more time here than anywhere else.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, looking up from the bowl.

"Tea, if you have any," I nodded.

"Mr Grey has tea," she smiled and stepped away from the counter. She opened the cabinet nearest to the fridge and stood back, allowing me to peek inside. There were boxes upon boxes of Twinings. "He asked me to buy them especially for you. He said you preferred English Breakfast."

"He did?" I frowned. "I don't remember telling him that…"

She didn't say anything. She filled a white teapot with boiling hot water and brought it over to me, along with a cup and teabag.

"Would you like anything else with it? Some lemon or sugar?"

"No, this is fine, thank you," I shook my head.

I dipped the bag inside the pot and let it brew. I waited until Mrs Jones was back on the other side of the counter before I spoke again.

"Mrs Jones, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course not," she smiled as she began beating the eggs and milk together.

"How long have you been working for Christian?" I asked.

She pursed her lips together. "Four years, I believe," she guessed. "Jason and I began working for Mr Grey at the same time… so, yes, about four years now."

"Jason?" I frowned.

"Taylor," she corrected. "Jason Taylor. Mr Grey's bodyguard."

"Oh, right," I nodded. "Do you enjoy working for Christian?"

She nodded instantly. "Mr Grey is a good man," she smiled. "He's very thoughtful and understanding… by far the best employer I've had."

I smiled as I heard that. I paused as I thought about my next question.

"I guess you must have seen a lot of people come and go over the years," I faked a laugh. She continued to beat the eggs without faltering. "Does Christian have many people over?"

"Just family," she nodded once. "I only work Monday to Friday, but during the week Mr Grey doesn't usually have visitors."

"Really?"

"He's a very busy man," she replied, the answer sounding clipped and rehearsed.

I recalled Christian's contract – how his submissives only came over at weekends. Mrs Jones would never see them if that's the case… But she must know what happens upstairs, surely?

"Does Elena Lincoln visit Christian at home?" I blurted, the question burning my tongue.

That stopped her in her tracks. Her shoulders rose slightly and she blinked slowly.

"No," she shook her head. "Ms Lincoln doesn't visit Mr Grey at home anymore."

"Anymore?" I repeated.

"Ms Lincoln hasn't come here for several months," she explained.

And like that, the conversation was over. I could tell by her expression that she wasn't going to delve deeper into this subject. She began whisking the eggs again, beating them fiercely, anything to stop me from prying further.

I sat quietly as she finished up my breakfast, whipping it up in no time at all. She slid the plate in front of me and took a step back.

"Would you like some toast?" she asked, her smile returning to her lips.

"No, thank you," I shook my head. "You've given me more than enough to get on with."

I gave her a reassuring smile as I took a bite of my omelette.

* * *

The next few hours passed quickly and with relative ease. I roamed the apartment, passing from room to room, trying to familiarise myself with the layout. Christian already gave me a tour of his home but I was blinded by the extravagance of it all. I preferred being able to take my time, take stock of the finer details. Mrs Jones left me to my own devices, heading out to the grocery store over an hour ago. She gave me her number, in case I needed something or if there was an emergency.

Honestly, it felt as if I was babysitting the apartment.

I decided against watching TV or picking up one of the books in Christian's library. Instead, I found myself in his office, at his computer. I need to be proactive in finding a new job, so I chose to scour the internet for any vacancies that may have appeared overnight. I found a notepad in the top drawer of his desk and ripped out a few pages, ready to scribble down anything of interest.

Christian's computer was protected with the same password as his iPhone – and his safe, I imagine, but I didn't go looking for that. With just a few clicks, I was signed into his account, wondering exactly when he changed his password to my name.

I searched all of the usual sites and found some vacancies that might be worth applying for, a few of them out of the city. Commuting back and forth every day sounds much more appealing than being under the iron fist of bitch troll. I'd happily commute to Mars if it means I never have to look at her sour-face ever again!

Within seconds of logging into Christian's computer, I saw a bombardment of email notifications appearing in the corner of the screen. Small transparent boxes signalling yet more emails. I turned off the sound as soon as I sat down, the dinging noise driving me insane.

How does he cope? There was no end to the number of people who demanded his attention. It was distracting. I couldn't help but glance at the boxes as they appeared. Only the sender and subject lines were visible to me. None of them sounded particularly interesting – most of them about budgets and something do with an EOD. It was complete gibberish to me.

I had no desire to read any of Christian's emails. I already felt guilty for using his computer, even though he said I could. It was an invasion of privacy and I have never given in to curiosity.

Until now.

I dragged the mouse to the corner of the screen and hovered over the latest notification. I could feel my pulse in the base of my throat, impulse ripping through me as I read the information in that tiny box.

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

Before I knew what I was doing, I opened the email.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Sophiedog22** – Oh I agree with you! The sooner Christian stops working with Elena the better, but he needs to see first-hand exactly how ruthless she is. And that day will come! :) Thank you, my lovely. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I hope you like this one. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on it. Much Love x

**Little1009** – Just a little cliffhanger… :) I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Everythingisok** – Thank you! With Ana, it's not really about whether she trusts Christian or not, it's that she doesn't trust Elena. She has seen what type of person the BT is, but Christian hasn't cottoned on yet. :) I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Helen Bracken** – Thank you. That's great to hear! :) I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

* * *

**Happy Saturday!**

**I hope you're all having a great weekend, just as I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you for the love on the last chapter. It's incredibly humbling to see so many people enjoying this story. :)**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

My eyes darted up and down the page, seeing a long list of emails between Christian and that woman.

I scrolled right to the bottom of the screen.

I shouldn't be doing this…

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 08:34**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

When are you free?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 08:49**

**To: Christian Grey**

Good morning to you too.

What do you want to talk about?

E

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 08:52**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

Maîtrise. Something has been brought to my attention and we need to discuss it. ASAP.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 09:07**

**To: Christian Grey**

Sounds ominous.

You know I'm not a fan of time wasting so get to the point. What is it?

E

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 09:12**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

I had a meeting with Caleb Hunter this morning. He's received some complaints.

I am not happy.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 09:24**

**To: Christian Grey**

Interesting.

Why were you meeting with Caleb? He's my employee. I deal with club business, not you.

If he's received complaints, he should bring them to me. Your input in this business is purely financial. Keep that in mind.

E

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 09:45**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

Cut the crap. It doesn't wash with me and you know it.

I think you forget I own 60% of that fucking club. You are supposed to make sure everything runs smoothly and from where I'm standing, you're doing a piss poor job.

I have a right to meet with any of **our** employees. Caleb thought it was best to discuss it with me first, considering the complaints are about you.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

Christian had a meeting with Cal this morning?

That was his breakfast meeting? Why didn't he say something to me?

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:01**

**To: Christian Grey**

Oh dear. Whatever will I do?

Which members complained? I'll send them a fruit basket and a gift card.

Seriously, Christian, get over it. Shit happens. If someone doesn't like the way I run my business, they know where the door is. Like I give a fuck. I have a long list of people ready to sign up.

It's not the end of the world.

E

* * *

Her reply left me open mouthed. How can she be so nonchalant? Even I know that reputation is key in the business world.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:14**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

Keep that attitude up and I'll pull out of the clubs.

I mean it, Elena. I'm furious.

The complaints didn't come from members – they came from employees. You and I both know we can't afford to lose anyone. You can't afford to send staff running for the hills.

We need to talk about this. Today.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I squirmed as I read Christian's reply. I could hear his voice in my ear, spitting his venom and sending a chill down my spine. I haven't seen that side of him and I don't want to.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:20**

**To: Christian Grey**

You're incapable of pulling out – I know that better than anyone, remember?

I'm busy all day but I can make time this evening. Shall we say 8pm?

E

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2015 10:24**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

8pm is fine.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:41**

**To: Christian Grey**

I've reserved our table at Canlis.

It's been a while since we had dinner together. I'm quite looking forward to catching up.

E

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:44**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

Don't. We're hardly going to be toasting over champagne. It's strictly business. I have plans for later tonight, so I won't be staying long.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

**From: Elena Lincoln**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 10:49**

**To: Christian Grey**

Plans?

Sub or just a casual fuck?

E

* * *

I scowled at the screen. Why does she care about his plans? It has nothing to do with her.

Wait.

_Plans?_

He has plans for tonight.

Since when?

I shook my head. No, I won't stoop to her level. If he wants me to know his plans for later, he'll tell me himself.

_If he wanted me to know about these emails, he'd have forwarded them to me_, I thought to myself.

Oh god. What have I done?

I quickly moved the mouse to the X in the corner, ready to close down the email log and wait for the ground to swallow me whole. But I was distracted by a new line flashing at the top of the page.

He replied.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: RE: We need to talk.**

**Date: 03/15/2012 11:02**

**To: Elena Lincoln**

It's none of your business.

I will see you at 8pm.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I closed the emails and slumped back in the chair, pushing away from the desk. My hands came up to my face and pressed against my temples.

I can't believe I did that. Why did I do that? I'm not the person who snoops around. I don't read other people's journals or steal a look at their phones when they're not looking.

Spinning around on the chair, I turned to look out of the window behind me. I spotted Christian's building just a few blocks away. I imagined him sitting at his desk, furiously tapping at his keyboard, the sound matching the heavy rain currently beating against the window. Matching the buzzing coming from my phone.

I reluctantly turned back to the desk and picked up my iPhone. I felt sick as I saw Christian's name staring back at me.

**_I'm almost done here, should be leaving in about thirty minutes. C x_**

I gave him a one-word reply. What else am I supposed to say?_ Please don't come home yet, I need time to work out how to confess that I raided your inbox._

Another text lit up the screen.

**_Everything okay? C x_**

_Yeah. I'll see you soon x_

I pressed 'send' and then switched off my phone. I need to think. He's going to know something is up as soon as he looks at me. My guilt will shine through, it always does.

"Shit…"

* * *

I positioned myself on the couch, lining up with the elevator. I'd abandoned the office a few minutes ago, fleeing the scene of the crime.

My breaths were heavy and irregular, hardening as I heard the ping of the elevator.

Christian marched into the apartment with long strides. His shoulders were pinned back, his spine painfully rigid. His left hand was hiding in his jacket pocket, his right gripping onto a white paper bag that brought the smell of fresh bread into the room.

I gulped past the confession burning in the back of my throat. His steely gaze fixed on mine immediately, but I couldn't gauge what he was thinking. His expression was neutral and unrelenting.

Does he know?

He can't know…

"There you are," he nodded as he reached the coffee table. He set the paper bag down on it and proceeded to shrug off his jacket. "I thought you would still be in my office."

"You did?"

"You were using my computer," he reminded me.

I began fiddling with my skirt, pulling the hem through my fingers. I had bought it for him picking it up a few weeks ago whilst I was out shopping with Kate. I thought maybe he'd like it. It's a tad shorter than what I'd usually wear.

"H-How did you…?"

"I have cameras all over my apartment," he replied in a terse voice. "There isn't an inch of this place that isn't monitored. Except the playroom, of course… I checked the feed from GEH."

"Right," I nodded. "That's good security."

"Yes, it is." He remained on the other side of the table, staring back at me with narrowed eyes. "I thought of everything when I had this place renovated… machines that can block cell phones, software that notifies me whenever my computer has been turned on..."

_Fuck_.

He knows.

"So, did you find anything interesting?" he asked, his arms crossing around his chest.

"Huh?"

"Jobs," he mouthed. "You were searching for jobs. At least you started looking at vacancies before you decided to go rifling through my email account."

A shudder ran down my spine.

"Christian –"

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice that the last email from Elena had been marked read before I'd touched it?"

I couldn't answer him. I hadn't thought about that.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I am so sorry."

"Why?" he shot back. I didn't like the edginess of his tone. "Why did you read my emails? What were you looking for?"

"I only read the emails from her," I protested. "I didn't read anything else, I swear."

"Answer my question."

I licked my lips and stood up from the couch, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the height difference between us.

"I wasn't looking for anything," I tried to explain. "I don't know what came over me."

"You saw her name and couldn't help yourself?" he fathomed. I nodded. "And what did you expect to find in our emails? Declarations of love? Hearts and flowers?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I didn't know what to expect. I'm sorry. It happened so fast. I saw hundreds of emails pop up on the screen and I ignored them, but something clicked in my when I saw _her_ name. I opened the email without thinking."

"You're saying it was a mistake?"

"Yes!"

"But you read all of the emails," he frowned and shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. "I watched you read every message. If it was a mistake, you would have closed the email the second you opened it. I could have overlooked that."

He turned his back on me and sighed. I felt something thud deep inside my chest.

"Christian," I rushed forward and halted in front of him. My hands lay limp at my sides even though I had the uncontrollable urge to hold his face between my palms, force him to look me in the eye. "I'm so sorry. I was way out of order, I know that, but please…"

"You could have asked," he retorted. "I would have shown them to you. I have nothing to hide where Elena is concerned. Haven't I proved that already?"

"You said that you don't like talking about your personal life," I frowned. "Last night, you couldn't sleep because we'd talked about –"

"My childhood," he interrupted with a huff. "I don't talk about my childhood. That's why I couldn't sleep. I told you about my problems with food, about my birth mother killing herself… _that_ makes me feel uncomfortable, not Elena fucking Lincoln!"

The penny dropped. My eyes widened.

"I didn't think," I slowly shook my head.

"No, I don't suppose you did." His gaze lingered on something behind me.

I curled my toes into the rug, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

He didn't answer that.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Leave?" he snorted, throwing his head back slightly. He finally caught my eyes. "That's the last thing I want, but it might be best for you to go."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not my submissive," he shrugged his shoulders. "Which means I can't do what I normally would in circumstances like this."

"What would you normally do?"

"Punish you," he answered. His pupils were large and stealing almost all of the deep grey of his irises. "I would take you over my knee and spank you until your ass is bright red."

A small wheezing noise escaped my lips.

"Right…" I croaked. My stomach fluttered. "Spanking… W-What does that entail, exactly?"

He cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a moment, his right eye twitching as he studied my expression.

"First, I would take you between my legs and bend you over my knee," he began, his words slow and deliberate. The fluttering grew more intense with each syllable. "I'd lift up the back of your skirt and pull down your panties. Then, I'd spank you."

"Hard?"

"Relatively," he nodded. "Afterwards, I'd take you from behind. I would have you screaming."

"For what?"

"More," he hissed, taking a step forward.

I heaved a sigh, my pulse beating in the base of my throat.

"Do it…"

He didn't move. A furrow developed in his brows.

"Do it," I repeated. "Punish me."

His frown deepened, thinking about my request as if it was a trick question. I reached out to touch his hand and then he moved, grabbing my wrist and tugging me off balance.

He yanked me back towards the couch and ordered me to stand still whilst he sat down. He splayed his thighs and positioned himself on the edge of the cushion.

"Between my knees," he nodded to the gap he'd made. "Facing the wall."

I did as he said. Before I could steady myself, he clamped his legs together and folded me over his left leg. He placed one hand on the small of my back, stopping me from falling between his vice like grip. His forearm rested flat across my shoulder-blades.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked before touching me more intimately. I nodded my head, my long hair draping over my flushed face. "I need to hear you say it."

"Yes," I gulped.

His right hand dipped under my skirt and pulled down my cotton panties.

"Who are you doing this for?" he murmured, his cool fingers sliding across my buttocks.

"Me…" I breathed, shivering at his touch. "I want you to punish me, Christian."

He hummed a throaty noise that made my knees buckle.

"If you say stop, I will. Just this once. In future, you will use the agreed safewords."

"Red," I nodded my head, remembering the clause in his contract. "Red means stop."

"Good girl." I could the smirk in his voice. "Why am I punishing you, Anastasia?"

"I read your emails."

"And how many emails did you read?"

"Um..."

I hesitated and it earned me my first spanking. His hand slapped my cheek, loud and quick. I gasped as the noise met my ears. The sound came first, then the stinging.

I waited for the pain to settle in, the unbearable agony that would fire through me. But it wasn't painful at all.

He massaged his palm across my cheek. He was gentle, soothing… The mix of hard and soft…

It was almost too much.

"How many emails were there?" he asked.

"I don't know," I choked. "I don't –"

He slapped me again, on the other side.

"Oh god!"

"There were fifteen emails," he told me. His fingers feathered back to where he'd started. "You read fifteen emails."

_A slap for every email?_

"That's too much for you," he answered my unspoken question. "I am going to spank you for every one of Elena's emails. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I licked my lips and gripped his thigh between my fingers. "Yes, I understand."

"Seven slaps," he added.

He gave me no warning, no inkling of how quickly he would fire through them. He alternated from left to right, a firm slap followed by gentle teasing.

It aroused something in me. It confused me.

Should I be enjoying this?

Should I be craving the next time his hand strikes my skin?

"Seven," he grunted.

I jerked forward slightly, the last slap coming harder than the rest. His hands moved up to my waist.

"Good girl."

He eased me up, allowing me to kneel on the floor. I leaned back against his leg and looked up at him. My face was burning red, my hair sticking to my sweaty forehead, but I didn't care. My eyes were drawn to the bulge in his pants.

"More?" I begged, ribbing my lip between my teeth.

"More?" he narrowed his eyes and brought his hand to my throat. His fingers glided over my jugular before settling under my chin. "Up."

He let go and slumped back against the couch. He fished inside his pocket and pulled out a strip of condoms.

I stepped out of my panties and waited as he sheathed himself, as he primed himself for me. When his fervent gaze met mine, I took that as my cue and climbed onto his lap. I slid down onto him slowly.

He sucked in a sharp breath as I took every inch of him. He yanked my hips forward with his left hand, his right riding up to the back of my neck.

"Fuck!" he gritted his teeth together.

I skimmed my fingers through his dampened hair and began moving against him. It was instinctual, my body taking control of mine and his pleasure. I stole a kiss from him, sucking hard on his lower lip.

"That's it," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck me, baby."

* * *

Christian stepped around me and opened my car door. He passed my duffel bag to me, having insisted that he carry it. I threw it onto the back seat and quickly turned to face him. His cheeks were still flushed, his hair crazed from my constant tugging. I could lose myself in those curls…

"I have a meeting," he uttered again, for probably the fourth time in as many minutes. He glanced at his watch. "I'm already late."

"It's fine," I shrugged it off. "We got carried away."

He nodded back at me.

We didn't even have time to eat. The paper bag is still untouched and sitting on his coffee table.

Before he'd taken off the condom he told me that he had to leave. He was methodical with clearing up the evidence of our tryst, composing himself once again.

I am sore and weak. I can still feel him inside me, every time I move, just like the first time we slept together.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked, shattering me from my thoughts.

"I don't know," I shook my head. "I was supposed to be working."

"Caleb will email you with a new rota," he nodded. "I have given him full access to Elena's schedule, so he will be able to check when she will be at the club. It might take a couple of days to sort something out."

"Do you want me to email you my résumé? So you can look at it for me?"

"No, it's on file at the club," he said. "I'll grab a copy from there. I'll take a look at it and get back to you."

"Thank you," I smiled. "I know I'm being an ass where this job thing is concerned, but I do appreciate your offer to help."

"Uh-huh," he nodded and took another glance at his wrist. "I have to –"

"You didn't say that you were meeting with Cal," I cut across him. He frowned. "This morning, when you woke me up, you didn't tell me that you were going to meet with Cal."

He let go of a loud sigh, only just masking the sound of his phone ringing inside his pocket. He rolled his eyes and pulled it out, rejecting the call without even checking who it was first.

"You were tired," he told me, shoving the phone back into his pants. "I had planned on telling you about it over lunch, but that was before you decided to play detective."

I rocked back onto my heels.

"Caleb and I discussed how we are going to work this with Elena," he added, dragging his hand down his face. He looked as if he couldn't care less about this conversation, his thoughts elsewhere. "He's spoken to some of the other bartenders and most of them have choice words about Elena anyway, so we're going to use that. We've decided to leave all names out of the mix and hope that she takes her foot off the gas."

"She'll guess that I'm one of them," I muttered to myself.

"Listen, I really have to go," he shook his head and let his hand drop from the car door. "We can talk about this later."

"Tonight?"

"I'll call you," he nodded. I could hear his phone buzzing again.

He leant forward and pecked his lips to mine, hovering only a millisecond before pulling away.

I slipped down into the car and fastened my seatbelt. Christian shut the door behind me and stepped back, allowing me room to reverse out of the parking spot.

I wound down the window and stared at him.

"I'll call you," he repeated with a quick nod of his head.

"I'll be waiting," I sighed and drove towards the exit.

* * *

Rolling onto my side, I reached for my cell phone and checked the time. 10:19pm.

I still haven't heard from Christian.

What did he mean? Is he going to call me tonight or did he mean it casually?

He was meeting with the bitch-troll at eight. I thought he might call me when he finished, but it doesn't take over two hours to eat dinner. Kate is the slowest eater I know but even she can keep it under an hour!

I scrolled through my messages, checking to see if I'd missed anything. I hadn't.

Maybe he's forgotten? Maybe he was so tired that he went home and crashed?

_What if he's just ignoring you?_ the more serious voice in my head wondered.

He seemed okay when I left his place. Quiet, but okay. He was absent-minded though. Could he still be angry with me?

I hovered over his name and thought about sending him a text. Texts are easy to ignore. At least with a call I'd know where I stand. If he rejects it, I'll know he's still pissed at me.

I held the phone to my ear and waited for the ringing to begin.

"Please, pick up," I hummed quietly.

After three short rings, I heard a click as the call connected.

"Grey."

"Hi –" I gasped, the sound of his clipped voice catching me off guard. "It's me. Ana. I just wanted to check in with you and –"

"I'm in the middle of something right now," he cut me off. I could hear music in the background, bluesy and deep. "I'll need to call you back."

"Oh…"

"Is it urgent?" he asked.

"I was worried. I hadn't heard from you."

He didn't answer that. An uneasiness grew in my stomach.

"You're still at dinner, aren't you?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Are you with her right now?"

"Yes, I am. It won't take much longer."

"Right," I sighed under my breath. The idea of him sitting across from her, staring at her as he speaks to me… "I miss you."

A breath caught in his throat. He tried masking it with a cough.

"Are we okay now?" I asked. "You know, because of the emails…?"

"Yes," he lowered his voice. "We resolved the situation this afternoon. It's all sorted."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not. But I have to go. We'll talk later."

"Tonight?"

"Bye."

He ended the call, a series of loud bleeps replacing his voice.

I lay back against my pillows and pursed my lips. Through the walls I could hear Kate's laptop playing _The Scientist_ by Coldplay. It's her goodnight song, the only thing that helps her drift off after a stressful day.

* * *

I had only just picked up my battered copy of _Jane Eyre_ when my phone started ringing. It was lying next to me on the bed, now flashing with Christian's name on the screen. My heart skipped a beat as I frantically seized it and answered.

"Christian."

"Hi," he mumbled. "Buzz in me."

"Huh?"

"I'm outside your building. Let me in."

I dropped my phone and book onto the bed and clambered to my feet. I quietly opened my bedroom door and paused for a moment, listening for noise from Kate's room. Her bed creaked and then I heard her sigh. I crept into the living room and peeked at her door. Her lights were off.

I rushed over to the door and buzzed Christian into the building. I stepped out into the hallway and waited for him to make his way up the stairwell opposite. He took the steps two at a time, appearing in record timing.

He was still wearing his suit from earlier, but he looked more dishevelled than before. His tie hung several inches from his unbuttoned collar. He blew out a loud breath before walking towards me.

"Shh…" I pressed my finger to my lips. "Kate's in bed."

"Asleep?"

I nodded.

He gave me a gentle smile and eased himself around me. He glided across the floor and disappeared into my room. I stole myself a minute before I joined him, this time remembering to lock my bedroom door behind me.

"Ana," Christian whispered my name as the catch locked into place.

I turned to face him and he closed in on me. He placed one hand on my hip, one on my cheek, and pushed me against the door. He closed his eyes and leant forward, bringing his lips to mine.

I expected his kiss to be rushed and eager, but it was the absolute opposite. He was slow and chaste, as if he was savouring the moment.

"Hey…" I uttered as he teased his lips from me. His forehead pressed to mine for a few seconds longer.

"I missed you too," he breathed.

"How was dinner?"

He cracked open his eyes and lifted his head away. His tilted his hips into my body.

"She was late," he blinked slowly. "But I think we're on the same page. We agreed that Caleb will take care of staffing from now on. She wasn't happy but she'll just have to deal with it. It should buy us some time."

I nodded. He stroked his thumb across the corner of my mouth.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you while you were with her," I apologised.

"I'm glad you did," he shook his head.

"I thought maybe you were still angry," I added. "You were kinda off with me when we left your apartment."

"I was very late for a meeting," he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Really, it wasn't you. I just… I'm usually meticulous about that sort of thing. I hate being kept waiting so I refuse to do that to other people."

"Oh?"

"It had nothing to do with the emails," he shook his head and pressed another sweet kiss to my lips. "You admitted that you did wrong, you apologised, I punished it. That's the end of it."

"It's that simple?" I frowned.

He nodded. "You were honest with me," he said. "Once I punish you, it's over. I won't drag it up again. But I'd hope that you wouldn't make that mistake twice."

"I won't," I shook my head. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment."

He smiled and nuzzled his head into the side of my neck. I shivered as he took a deep breath.

"How did it make you feel?" he mouthed. "To be punished?"

"Confused…"

"Why confused?"

"I enjoyed it," I admitted, arching my head back as he began working his lips to my ear lobe. "Uh…"

"You liked it when I spanked you?"

"Yes…"

He sucked on my ear and excited a groan from me.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he hummed.

"Neither did I. I thought it would hurt."

"It can get worse than that," he revealed. "I started you off easy."

"I think I can handle more," I gulped. "Harder. You can be harder with me next time... I want more."

"All in good time," he rubbed his cheek against me. "You'll bruise if I spank you again tonight. I want your ass red, not purple."

I moaned my frustration.

"We'll play soon, baby," he soothed. "I just want to sleep tonight."

I pressed my head against the door and stared at him. His eyes were almond shaped and red.

"You came all the way over here to sleep?" I shook my head. "Your bed is better than mine. I don't have an expensive mattress or silk pillowcases –"

"My bed doesn't have you in it," he breathed, tilting his mouth to mine and sucking a hard kiss from my lips. "I don't want to sleep on my own."

If he wasn't holding me up, I would have slid straight down to the floor. His words weakened me.

"I can only sleep when I'm holding you," he continued. "I don't want the nightmares to come back."

"Oh, Christian…"

He pulled me away from the door and began undressing me, slowly lifting my t-shirt over my head. He crouched and buried his head between my naked breasts, grinding his body against mine.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," he groaned. "But don't stop. Please, don't stop."

I lay down on the bed and watched as he removed my shorts and panties before crawling over me. He linked his fingers with mine and lifted my hands over my head.

"You were on my mind," he explained, his lips worshiping every inch of my face. "Every second I was with her, you were the only thing I could think about… having you, holding you… Just. You."

"Make love to me," I sighed, hooking my ankles around the back of him. His suit felt coarse against my sensitive skin. "Please?"

"_You_…" he repeated. "Only you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Sophiedog22** – I'm glad you liked it. Thank you! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

**Piso29** – Thank you! Elena does have a hold on Christian but the extent of that will be revealed very soon. :) Much Love x

**Desini** – He most certainly is! Thank you. Much Love x

**Jess** – Thank you! Yes, it is a slow burner but the metaphor I have been giving readers who have questioned the pace is that of a fire. Without an accelerant, the flames don't take hold for a while - they burn slowly and sometimes teeter on extinction. But if they gain enough momentum, they roar. It's only then that it becomes powerful and overwhelming. It can be explosive and, more often than not, dangerous. That's how I view Christian and Ana's relationship and, I hope, that everyone will understand what I mean by this in the future. There is a method to my madness. I have thought this through and things will heat up soon. (And Ana will meet the Greys _very_ soon, I promise!) Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I'm really glad to see you enjoyed the last chapter. I hope you like this one. Much Love x

* * *

**Happy Sunday,**

**I hope you have all had a great weekend. I'm sending love and warm thoughts from a very chilly England at the moment. **

**Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. It always means the world to me.**

**I hope you like this chapter. Can you spot the two familiar faces who make an appearance? ;)**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

The belt of my bath robe slipped through Christian's fingers as he mindlessly played with it, his means of holding me close to him while he peppered kisses across my lips. I gasped as he suddenly tugged on the two ends.

"You should have stayed in bed," he whispered, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. He shot a glance towards Kate's bedroom. We'd been saying goodbye to each other for the last ten minutes, the door to our apartment wide open behind Christian. "It's too early for you to be out of bed."

"Far too early," I agreed with him. "But there was a naked man trying to escape. I had to wake up and stop him."

He hummed a throaty noise that made my skin tingle.

"Just how naked are we talking?" he arched his brow.

"Very naked," I said, taking his lower lip between my teeth. I nipped him and he tugged my belt again. "He was magnificent."

"Did he have his wicked way with you?"

"No," I shook my head. "I had my way with him… _Twice_."

He inhaled a sharp breath and then smothered my lips with his. His tongue lolled into my mouth as his hands encircled my waist. His fingers dug into the small of my back, arching me into his chest. I felt like ripping his clothes off and taking him right there and then.

"Thank you," he mumbled, blinking slowly. "For letting me stay over."

I gulped as I remembered his words from last night.

"Did you mean what you said?" I asked. "About sleeping with me?"

"I meant every word," he nodded. "I don't know what it is about you, but you stop my nightmares. No one has ever been able to do that. I've seen dozens of psychiatrists and none of them have been able to help me."

_I'm helping him_…

"I have to go," he pursed his lips and turned his eyes down to his watch. "I need to change my clothes before I head into work."

"Did you drive here last night?"

"I parked down the street," he confirmed. "I need to check my schedule, but are you free tonight?"

"I think so," I nodded. "Call me later?"

"I'm sure you'll call me if I forget to," he smirked. "You should have seen Elena's face when I answered your call in front of her."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"I've always made a point of ignoring calls in the past because it drives her mad," he explained. "She hates it when people interrupt meetings to answer their phone. But I didn't think twice about answering your call."

"She didn't know it was me, did she?"

"No," he shook his head. "But she knows that whoever called was important to me. I wouldn't interrupt a meeting for just anyone."

I rolled my lips inward to stop myself from grinning. The thought of her seething, him choosing me over her… it's childish and petty point-scoring, but it makes me glow on the inside.

"I'll see you soon," he continued, squeezing my waist once more. He gave me another quick kiss before he pulled away from me altogether and began sloping towards the stairwell. "I'll call you."

"You better," I warned him with a mischievous grin high over my features.

He laughed as he raced down the steps. I waited until I heard the door downstairs open and close before I retreated back into the apartment.

I wandered over to the window and looked down on the street. Christian crossed over to the other side and strode quickly to his sports car. He started the engine and drove away without hesitation, zooming out of view and leaving me with a throbbing sensation in my chest.

What is wrong with me? This is the stuff of fairy tales and romance novels, not my life.

He's just a man.

And I'm just a woman pining over him every time he has to leave me.

"What are you doing up so early?"

I jumped back from the window and spun on the spot.

Kate was stood in her doorway, her hands raised and taming her hair into a top-knot. She was fully dressed in a white blouse and a pair of dusty-pink coloured slacks.

"No reason," I shrugged. I quickly made my way over to the kitchen, trying to hide my reddened cheeks from her. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she called from inside the bathroom. She remerged after a minute, slumping down onto one of the stools behind the counter. "Actually, I'm glad you're awake. I wanted to ask if you can pick me up from work this evening?"

"Sure," I nodded, my eyes firming settled on my cup of tea, watching as golden waves escaped the bag. "I'm not working tonight."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," she sighed with relief. "I need to drop my car into a mechanic. Well, that's if I can find one that isn't going to rip me off."

"A mechanic?" I repeated, throwing a look her way. "Why, what's wrong with your car?"

"I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders. "It keeps making a weird noise when I shift gear. Ethan checked it for me and he thinks it's the clutch. All I know is that it's a piece of shit and needs fixing… I called into a few places but their quotes are ridiculous."

"Wait a second –" I held up my fingers and set my cup down on the counter. I stepped over to the door and rummaged inside the fruit bowl where we keep our keys and unopened mail. It took me all of two seconds to find the business card I was looking for. "Here!"

I passed the black and gold card to Kate.

"It's the shop that fixed Wanda for me," I told her. "They did a really good job."

"Elliot Tire and Service?" she read aloud. She turned the card over to read the testimonial on the back. "Are they cheap?"

I scrunched my nose, which didn't enthuse her in the slightest. My repairs totalled over three thousand dollars. Not that I had to pay a penny. Christian took care of that.

"Wanda is an old car," I tried to alleviate some of her worries. "But they were really quick with the repairs. She was back on the road within a few days… Who knows, they might be able to knock some money off if you say that a friend recommended them."

"Maybe," she nodded. "I'll give them a call when I get to work. I might be able to drop my car off at lunch, it'll give me an excuse to leave the office."

Her green eyes saddened as her thoughts turned to work. She was so desperate to work at the _Seattle Times_ but I have never seen her look so miserable.

"Are people still being rude to you?" I asked.

"They're not rude," she shrugged. "I know that if I can pull an exclusive they'll ease up on me. In the meantime, however, I guess I'll just have to endure it."

"I heard you listening to Coldplay last night," I admitted. She nodded, knowing exactly what I meant by that.

"Chris Martin makes everything feel better," she smiled. "So… breakfast? I'm in the mood for pancakes."

"Rooty tooty fresh and fruity?" I raised my brow.

"Absolutely!" Kate nodded and slipped down off her stool. "Get dressed. If we leave now, we'll beat the morning rush."

* * *

I decided to walk home from IHOP, wanting to burn off the calories and save Kate being late for work. She's having a hard-enough time as it is, the last thing she needs is a black mark against her name.

I moved at a slow pace, giving myself time to think over what she said. While I was unemployed, I know Kate struggled to manage all of the bills on her own. I would happily pay her back every penny but she's stubborn and won't take it. She's a lot like Christian in that respect.

Kate just needs her luck to change. A helping hand, maybe?

I rooted around my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I haphazardly typed out a text to Christian, asking if he was free to talk. He called me instantly.

"Hey," I smiled as I accepted the call. His velvety voice tickled my ear as he returned the greeting. "I didn't know if you were in a meeting or…"

"No, I'm just catching up on paperwork at the moment," he explained. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Steele?"

"I wanted to ask you a question," I said as I fisted my free hand into my coat pocket. The spring air was still haunted by the ghost of winter. "A favour, really."

"Okay. Hit me with it."

"I was wondering if you could maybe turn on some charm and help me out with something?"

"A job?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No, it's for Kate."

"Oh."

He sounded deflated.

"Her car needs repairing," I began, "she's taking it to the place you had mine towed to, but she's worried about the cost. What are the chances of you twisting someone's arm and getting her a discount? You said you knew the owner so I figured…"

He fell silent for the longest time. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking to make sure the call hadn't been cut off.

"Christian?"

"It's done," he replied with a curt edge to his tone. I almost came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, much to the annoyance of the dogwalker behind me. "I've sent a message to the shop. When will she drop her car off?"

"Lunch," I mumbled. I narrowed my eyes. "It's done? Just like that?"

"Yes. I've requested a fifty percent discount. That will be enough, won't it?"

"Wow. I mean yes, thank you. I owe you for this. She's going through a bit of a hard time at the moment and I just want to help her out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he apologised. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

I inhaled a slow breath as I thought about my answer. He mistook my silence for a no.

"If you change your mind, just let me know, okay?" he replied. "But heading off topic, I've just emailed you all of my notes on your résumé."

"Already?"

"Well, there wasn't much to read," he said. I pursed my lips. "I don't mean to be rude, Ana, but there's a reason why you're not getting interviews."

"Right…"

"You're not selling yourself enough," he sighed. "If your résumé landed on my desk right now, I would throw it in the trash. I wouldn't even bother reading it because it doesn't stand out. It doesn't tell me what your strengths are, what skills you've developed."

"So what do I do now?" I asked, feeling slightly wounded.

"I've highlighted some areas that you need to work on, but we'll sort it out," he promised. "If you complete the changes I've suggested, you'll have people begging to meet with you."

"Even with zero experience?"

"You have experience," he countered. "It's just about selling it in the right way. Trust me. I've been doing this for a long time, I know what I'm talking about."

"I trust you," I muttered. "I do. Thank you. I'll work on it when I'm home."

"You're not at home?"

"No, I went out for breakfast," I explained. "I wish you could have joined us."

"I wish you were here."

His voice took on a needier tone.

"Why?" I hummed, biting down on my lip, pre-empting the throaty rasp that will take over his words. "Do you need someone to do your filing? _Sir_."

"I need you to do a lot more than that," he teased. "Although, the thought of you bending over my filing cabinet is very tempting. Especially if you're wearing the short skirt you had on yesterday."

"You liked that then?"

"Very much."

"I bought it for you," I revealed. "It was kind of a 'please look at me' purchase. I got it before we started seeing each other."

"What else did you buy for me, baby?"

"You'll have to wait and see," I whispered back. He groaned a noise that made me smirk. "Maybe tonight, if you're lucky."

"Let me check my schedule," he said. I heard a series of clicks and then a sigh. "Shit."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I completely forgot," he huffed. "I'm supposed to be taking my sister to the theatre tonight."

"Oh, right."

"She was begging me to go with her," he explained. "No one else would go with her, but I can call her and –"

"Don't stand your sister up for me," I interrupted him. "I won't let you do that."

"But –"

"Family should always come first," I insisted. "Go have fun with your sister."

He didn't reply.

"I think I'm overdue a girly night with Kate anyway," I continued. "Pizza, a glass of wine, some boy talk. It's just what the doctor ordered."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I smiled. "You can always come over afterwards, like you did last night."

"I'd like that. I should have kept a closer eye on my diary."

"Don't," I silenced him and his apologies. "It's family. I get it. If it makes you feel any better, I'd ditch you in a heart-beat if I had plans to see my dad."

He laughed at that.

"I'll let you get back to your paperwork," I told him, my apartment building now coming into view. "Chat soon?"

"Try and stop me, baby," he whispered before ending our call.

With my smile still firmly in place, I let myself into the building. I stopped by the mail box and checked the junk inside our locker. There were a couple of flyers and some envelopes, which I only glanced briefly at before tucking them under my arm and heading upstairs.

Once inside the apartment, I dumped my belongings onto the kitchen counter and took a more serious look through the mail. I frowned as I saw two identical silver envelopes, one for Kate and the other addressed to me.

I turned mine over and tore open the seal, finding just a square photograph inside. It was black and white and looked like Ray's backyard. I knew who it was from before I'd even noticed the name printed in the bottom right corner.

**José Rodriguez. _Photographer_.**

It's a formal invitation to his exhibit.

Wow, Christian's not the only one with a lax memory. I'd forgotten all about José…

I checked the back of the photograph and read the inscription. The show is scheduled for March 27.

Unlocking my phone, I opened the calendar app, ready to input the details. Things are still tense between me and José but I want to support him. Even if he did hold me a little too closely the last time we spoke. He's still my friend and I do care about him.

The show is in eleven days. I hovered my finger over the date but I selected the 26th instead, seeing a memo already saved on that day:

_Kate leaving for Barbados_

Great… Just great.

Looks like I'll be going to the show on my own. No one to save me from a possible drunk José and his wandering hands.

* * *

I started the car as soon as Kate filed through the doors of the _Seattle Times_ offices. I'd been waiting at the sidewalk for almost thirty minutes, listening to the news on the radio.

Kate gave me a wild grin as she started walking towards me, dodging her downcast co-workers. She bounced into the seat beside me, her quick movement sending a whiff of her signature Gucci perfume through the car.

"Good day?" I laughed, finding her change in mood infectious. "You've got a spring in your step!"

She swung her head to me and her smile grew wider. It reached her eyes and made them twinkle with genuine happiness. It's the first time in a long while that I've seen her like this.

"I think my luck is finally changing," she sighed.

"Were they nicer to you today?" I wondered, glancing up at her building.

"Oh god no," she shook her head. "They're still a bunch of bastards. No, I totally got a discount at the auto-repair shop. I did what you said and the guy bought into it."

"Great," I smiled.

"He said that he really appreciates it when customers pass on their information," she began to explain as she fastened her seat belt. "Apparently, it's a relatively new business and they need all the support they can get."

"How much did they knock off?"

"Fifty percent," she mouthed, over-exaggerating the words. I raised my brows in feigned surprise. "I know, right? I almost passed out. I mean, I did batter my eyelashes a bit so I think that maybe helped up the discount."

"Probably," I nodded.

"The guy said he'd make sure my car is ready by the morning. He's going to put it through as a priority."

"Wow," I smirked and started driving away the pavement.

"I know," she sighed again. "I don't want to toot my own horn but he was totally giving me the eye. He couldn't stop staring at me. I could feel him undressing me with his eyes."

"And you were okay with that?"

"He was gorgeous," she said. "I would have jumped him there and then if I didn't have to get back to work… but I am going out for a drink with him tonight."

"You are?" I glanced in her direction.

"I told him to pick me up at eight," she nodded. She did a jerky shoulder dance and let out a high-pitched squeak. "I've got a date!"

I giggled at her reaction. I didn't ask her to dish the details on what her date looks like, she volunteered that information freely.

* * *

"Does this look too slutty to you?"

Kate stood at the end of the couch, her hands pressed firmly on her hips, emphasising her curves. I looked up from my laptop and stared at her as she turned 360. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut silk blouse. The V came to a point between her breasts, no hint of a bra on display. The champagne colour sat beautifully against her slightly tanned skin.

"You look incredible," I smiled. "Not even the best padded bra in the world could make my boobs like as good as yours."

"Just working with what my mama gave me," she winked. "Who am I to lock these bad boys up?"

I snorted a laugh. She dipped back into her bedroom and retrieved her ankle boots before coming back into the living room. She dropped onto the armchair and began putting on her shoes.

"So, are you seeing Mr X tonight?" she asked me. I narrowed my eyes. "What, I have to call him something. I can't call him Ana's fuck-buddy, can I?"

"Mr X is fine," I assured her. "He's got plans tonight, but I might see him later. Until then, I'm going to sift through my emails and Facebook messages, then have a bubble bath -"

I was silenced by the sound of the buzzer echoing through the apartment. Kate's eyes widened as she jumped up from her chair. I turned around and looked to the door, waiting to catch my first glimpse of her date.

He knocked the door three times. Kate waited a few seconds before yanking it open.

"Hi," she chirped, tilting her head to the side.

"Hey beautiful," he replied, his voice smooth like caramel. "Whoa… you look amazing, babe."

"This old thing?" she sniggered and flicked her curled hair over her shoulder. "So, um, let me just grab my keys and we can go."

Kate moved out of the way and afforded me the chance to lock eyes with her date. He filled the doorframe with ease, his shoulders broad and his height overwhelming. His dark blonde hair had been lazily scraped back from his face. I couldn't place his age, his boyish smirk making him look younger that the stubble around his jaw suggested.

"Hey," he held his hand up in greeting. "You must be Ana, right? You've got the VW Beetle?"

"Yeah, that's me," I nodded back.

"Great car," he smiled. "Is she running okay now?"

"Perfect, thank you."

"I worked on her with my own bare hands," he added.

"Got them –" Kate declared, holding up her set of keys and giving them a jingle. She reached across the counter and grabbed her jacket and purse, then snapped her head back to me. I understood the look she gave me. It meant that I needed to text her halfway through the night, just in case he's a nightmare. "I'll see you later, Ana."

"Have fun," I nodded. I looked to her date. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," he smiled and lifted his arm out for Kate. "Shall we?"

She chuckled and slipped out of the door, slamming it shut behind her.

She's smitten already. I could practically see the love hearts popping in her eyes.

Boy, when Kate sets her sights on a man, she's all in from the very start. I just hope this one doesn't screw her around, unlike the last notch on her bedpost.

With a sigh, I returned to my emails and noticed a new message flashing at the top of the screen. It was from Cal.

* * *

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Hours Available – weekend**

**Date: 03/16/2012 20:09**

**From: Caleb Hunter**

Steele,

Just checked Lincoln's diary and she's out of town this weekend – not back until Monday. I need you in tomorrow and Sunday. Normal hours.

That alright with you?

Cal

* * *

I emailed him back. I'm not going to refuse the hours. I'm not an idiot and I do need the money. If I can save up as much as I can, I might be able to leave the club before I find something else.

Cal's reply came instantly.

* * *

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Hours Available – weekend**

**Date: 03/16/2012 20:11**

**From: Caleb Hunter**

Thank fuck for that.

Tomorrow – be there for 5:30pm at the latest. I want to chat with you before we open. I'll be in Lincoln's office.

Cal

* * *

My Friday night passed in a quiet blur of takeout, a hot bubble bath and the chance to finally finish re-reading _Jane Eyre_. I must have been dipping in and out of Charlotte Brontë's mind for weeks, finding it harder than ever to resonate with Jane and Rochester.

I waited most of the evening to hear from Christian, to see if he would come over for a late-night cuddle, but luck wasn't on my side at all. He called me just after eleven-thirty and said that he needed to head home and make some calls. He explained that his company in London is still experiencing some problems and he needed to get on top of them ASAP. I assured him that it was okay, but I was secretly pained at the thought of spending the night alone.

Kate came home at midnight, still grinning and excitable. I was already in bed but she slumped down next to me and gave me a play-by-play of her evening. Her date left her at the door, like a gentleman. He sounded nice and respectful. Kate said his name was Lee, but that name didn't seem to fit his face for some reason.

Saturday morning was slow but productive. I spent a few hours working on the comments Christian made on my résumé, of which there were many. He sent me a mock-up of his own résumé so I could see what it should look like. The differences stretched much further than just our qualifications and experience. I quickly understood what he meant: mine looked cheap in comparison, empty and worthless. Some of the notes Christian made were sensible, though some I challenged. I emailed my changes to him and waited for a response. I still haven't heard anything by the time I left for work.

I entered the club at 5:15pm and left my belongings in the back room, as per usual. I felt more relaxed when I saw that Ms Lincoln's parking space was empty. A part of me had expected her to turn up unannounced.

Maîtrise felt barer without her shadowy presence lurking over me. I could finally breathe.

Wasting no time, I headed straight for the office and stepped inside without knocking, finding the door ajar. Cal was sat behind the mahogany desk, stewing over his computer. He held up his hand and silently gestured for me to sit down.

"Is everything okay?" I asked quietly, feeling cautious about disturbing him. He grunted a noise back at me. His brown hair was messy and dishevelled, and his dark eyes were creased with tiredness. "Cal?"

"Just trying to get my head around this piece of shit," he groaned and shoved the laptop to one side. "I'm up to my neck in admin at the minute, but I'm glad you're here. I needed an extra pair of hands tonight. We're down two bartenders and Abi's just bailed on us."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

Abi was the overly friendly observer, one of very few people who bothered to speak to me since I'd worked here. I liked her. I hardly knew her, but I liked her. It was because of her and her wayward comments that the true nature of the club began to reveal itself to me.

"She's quit," Cal announced. "She's heading back to Chicago. Her grandmother's dying and she wants to be with her… I can't blame her but it leaves me a man down. I've been interviewing people all fucking day."

I eased back into my chair and crossed my legs.

"Never mind that," he shook his head and shot me a dark glare. "Did Grey tell you that I met with him the other day?"

"Yeah, he did," I nodded.

"Good. We worked out a way to keep you away from Lincoln," he said. "It's gonna be a nightmare trying to fit you in around her, but Grey's going to ease her out of the club."

"Huh?" I frowned, not following him.

"He wants Lincoln to become more of a silent partner, like him," Cal explained. "She's making life hell for everyone who works here, not just you. It's a lot worse over on the East coast, believe me… She doesn't understand this world –" he waved his hand around the room. "She's been a domme for a long time but she doesn't know how to run a club like this. Grey's the one who guided her and told her what to do."

"I thought he just gave her the money," I muttered.

"He does most of the leg work," he corrected me. "He lets her take over so much but she's always asking his advice. She's into bikini waxes and pedicures, and that's where she should stay… Grey's told her to back off where staffing is concerned, but he's going to slowly push her out altogether."

"I had no idea."

"I'll do whatever I can to protect you from her," Cal assured me. "But if she does turn up here when you're working, I want you to stick with me. Okay?"

"Okay," I nodded.

"I've already had my ear chewed off by Grey," he revealed. "He doesn't want you anywhere near her. He's seriously worried about you."

"Is she that dangerous?" I gulped.

"No," he shook his head. "But she has a sharp tongue and she won't hold back. He doesn't want you to get hurt. He cares about you."

"I know," I nodded again. The corners of my lip rose into a smile as I thought about Christian. He does care about me. I can feel it.

Cal cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. He rubbed his fingers into his eyes and yawned.

"Right, I need you to start filling up the refrigerators," he ordered. "We ran out of juice last night, so I had some more delivered today. It's all in the back room."

"No problem," I smiled and lifted out of my chair, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up.

"Oh –" he remembered, "I've got someone coming in for a trial shift tonight. One of the people I interviewed earlier. Send them in to see me when they arrive?"

"Sure," I hummed and began making my way to the door. I stopped and turned to look at Cal over my shoulder. "How many people did you interview?"

"Three. Why?"

"I thought you were struggling to hire people for this place," I shrugged.

"Did Grey tell you that?" he frowned. I nodded. He didn't tell me specifically. I read it in his email, but that doesn't matter. Cal sighed. "There are a few clubs like this in the city. Better clubs who offer their staff double the salary Lincoln pays. It's difficult to compete with them, which is why a lot of the staff we do have come from the other clubs in the Esclava chain. Two of the guys I interviewed are from New York, but the one who's stopping by tonight came by personal recommendation."

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"Lincoln knows her," he revealed with a hint of disappointment in his face. He held up his hands in defence. "I know, it's not ideal, but I said I would at least interview the girl. Lincoln agreed that the final decision is mine and from what I've seen so far, the girl's good. She's got a lot of experience."

That didn't fill me with confidence.

"It's just a trial," Cal reiterated. "If she's a bag of shit, she's out of the door. If she's good, I'll take her on to cover all of the hours you're not able to do."

I couldn't help but feel a tight knot develop in the pit of my stomach. I exited the office and headed for my preferred spot behind the bar. Keeping busy will save me from overthinking things. I knelt down on the floor and tore open the box next to the fridge. I slid the glass bottles into place, the loud chinking noise evaporating the silence around me.

I almost reached the bottom of the box when she appeared, her nails tapping on the bar top as she tried to gain my attention. She came from nowhere. I didn't hear her high heels on the hardwood floor, didn't hear any doors opening or closing.

"Excuse me?" her soft voice uttered, making me jump. The bottle I was holding almost slipped through my grasp. I caught it just before it smashed. "God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," I lied. My heart was thumping in my ears. "C-Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Caleb Hunter," she smiled. The deep coral of her lipstick disagreed with her creamy skin. It made her look pale, made her dark eyes appear black. "He said to meet him here. I'm supposed to be working tonight."

I looked down the length of her and noted the black blouse and skirt she was wearing, identical to my own. Her hair was dark like mine and had been pulled back into a bun, just two red chopsticks holding it in place.

"Is he around?" she asked, my silence causing a furrow to develop between her brows.

"Um, yeah," I nodded. "Sorry. He's in the office. Just over there –"

With expert timing, Cal appeared in the office doorway, pressing his left forearm against the frame.

"That's him," I told the woman. She flashed me another smile and held her hand out to me. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she nodded as she shook my hand. She tugged on the hem of her blouse and strolled towards Cal.

He straightened his spine as she reached him. He stepped aside to let her inside.

"After you, Ms Williams," he grunted.

"Please, call me Leila," the woman nodded and then disappeared into the office.

* * *

**For those who are hating this story, think I've ruined the characters or the world E L James made, or who are simply targeting their anger at me: please just give up and move on. You're not being forced to read this story, just as you are not forced to like it. You're wasting your own time. I will still write this story whether you read it or not. There's already enough hate and abuse in the world - don't add to it. x**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**I'm a Fan/Jody** – Thank you so much! That's very kind of you to say. :) I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

**Desini** – Thank you! I guess the only way I can beat the trolls is to continue just as I am. If I quit, they win and that really isn't something I want to do. :) I hope you like this update! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I think there might be more than one reason why Leila is here. Time will tell! Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Rustyarbor51** – Yes, I can imagine things are a little bit tough there at the moment! I hope this chapter helps ease some of the tension for you. :) Much Love x

* * *

**Happy Saturday, Lovelies!**

**Thank you for the support and love on the last chapter. Even if there is just one person reading this story, that's reason enough for me to continue. :) **

**So I've been very busy the past few weeks with assignments and research, but I really do hope you enjoy this chapter and it was worth the wait.**

**We had two new faces in the last chapter - anyone feel like adding another two to the mix? ;)**

**I hope you like it!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

**(P.S - Yes, that was Elliot in the last chapter. And yes, he has given Kate a fake name. All will become apparent soon! x)**

* * *

My shift passed quickly and without any hiccups, much to my relief. For the first part of the evening, I was tasked with mentoring Leila and showing her the ropes. I could have slapped Cal for his suggestion, his wicked smirk and the wink he gave me. Even at a very basic level, I was the worst person to teach her the drinks menu. I've only just learnt it myself.

But Leila was patient with me. She stood quietly, smiling and nodding as I tried to explain different things to her. If I made mistakes, she didn't point them out. We made small talk in the quieter moments. I learnt that she was born and bred in Seattle, and that she's known the bitch troll for over a year. They met in a club similar to Maîtrise.

"We got talking one night," she'd told me. "We kind of mixed in the same circle, so to speak."

Before I could question her further, Cal escorted Leila upstairs. It was obvious to me then that she would be offered the job. I mean, it was obvious as soon as I first clapped eyes on her. She fits. This is her comfort zone.

I didn't see Leila again until the end of our shift. I opened the door to the back room and found her fastening her leather jacket, a cream silk scarf hanging around her neck.

Her head shot up at the sound of the door opening and she gave me a wide smile.

"Long night," she said, blowing a loose tendril of hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah," I nodded and made my way to the shelf where I'd left my belongings. "So, how did it go?"

"Good," she smiled. "Really good, actually."

"Has Cal spoken to you yet?"

"Yes," she nodded her head enthusiastically. "I start tomorrow. I don't know my hours for next week, but I can't wait."

"Congrats," I smiled back.

"Thanks," she chuckled. "So how long have you been working here?"

"Since they opened," I said. "Three months now."

"Did you come from one of the other Esclava clubs?" she asked.

"Oh god no," I huffed. "No, I saw an ad in the paper. This is just a filler job until I find something else."

"Oh," her brows lifted. "Right. I take it you're not a club-goer then?"

I shook my head and she nodded. Her dark eyes scaled the length of my body.

"Yeah, I didn't think you were," she hummed. I frowned and jerked my head back at her comment. She held up her hand. "No, I didn't mean it in a bad way! I just, I mean, you don't look like the kind of person who frequents a place like this."

"I just work here," I retorted, pressing my lips together.

"I imagine all of this must have come as quite a shock to you," she added. "You know, learning what happens in a place like this."

I searched deep into those Bourbon coloured irises. I turned my eyes away from hers for a second, composing myself.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I shook my head, keeping my face straight. "It's just a cocktail bar, isn't it?"

I cocked my head to the side and gave her a confused look. In an instant, her face changed. Her mouth opened wide, her throat bobbing as she gulped hard.

"Err…" she hesitated. It took her a second to figure out what to do next. She shook her head and forced a laugh. "Sorry! God, my head is all over the place tonight. Just ignore me."

"Okay," I nodded.

I stared at her as she gathered the rest of her things and slipped out through the exit. She left in a rush, humming a quick goodbye.

Smiling to myself, I wrapped up warm in my coat and followed in her wake. A sharp gust of wind whipped itself around my cheeks.

_Nice try, bitch troll. I know what game you're playing._

The organ grinder hired a monkey to spy on me.

* * *

"You okay, Steele?"

I looked over my shoulder and watched as Cal made his way to me. He rounded the bar and set his sights on the cash register.

"Uh-huh," I nodded and crossed my arms, leaning up against the bar.

He began emptying the register into a black bag, ready to be counted and put into the safe for depositing tomorrow morning. I know the drill. It's the same every Sunday night.

It's much quieter tonight than it usually is, though. There's hardly anything in the register. Most of the members who entered the club just went straight upstairs, not even making eye contact with me.

Cal arched his brow and exhaled a heavy breath. "You don't look okay," he said. "What's up?"

"You liked Leila then?" I asked. He shot me a narrowed look. "Enough to hire her, that is."

"Got a problem with that?"

"No," I shook my head. "I just find it a bit weird."

"What?"

"That Ms Lincoln agreed to let you take over with hiring people, but she's still got a say," I shrugged. "She conveniently placed Leila under your nose."

"Maybe," he sighed. "But I hired Leila because she knows what she's doing. She has a ton of references. It was my choice to make and Lincoln knows that."

"Haven't you questioned why she put Leila forward in the first place?" I challenged.

"Yes," he nodded. "You don't think I know Lincoln wants eyes on the ground now that she's being pushed out? That maybe she wants concrete proof that you and Grey are screwing around? Yeah, I have thought about it, but I need an observer and Leila is the best I got right now."

I pursed my lips. He slammed the tray back into place and turned to look at me.

"Listen, Steele," he sighed again. "I know what Lincoln's doing. I knew she'd try to pull some bullshit like this."

"And you're okay with that?"

"She's not going to get what she wants," he promised. "I'll just tweak the rotas and make sure you and Leila aren't here at the same time. She can't fish for information if you're not here."

"You'd do that?" I frowned.

"My neck is already on the chopping block," he snorted. "But at least Grey is on my side. Look, I'll try to make sure you and Leila don't cross paths, but there may be nights when I need both of you."

"And Ms Lincoln?"

"Let Grey deal with her," he said. "He'll work something out. I'm banking on it."

"Me too," I sighed. I raised my hands to my face and rubbed at my forehead.

I felt Cal edging closer, stopping just a foot from me. I lowered my hands and looked up into his rounded eyes.

"Why don't you call it a night?" he suggested, his voice a throaty whisper. "You look tired."

"I'm okay –"

"I'll pay you for the remainder of the night," he cut me off. "Really, just go home and get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't say it otherwise," he quipped. "I'll check the schedule for next week and let you know if I can fit you in."

"Thank you, Cal," I smiled, placing my hand on his forearm and giving it a squeeze. "You're a good friend to have."

"Friend?" he screwed up his face at the word. "I fucking hate you. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind."

I chuckled a laugh as I sidestepped him and left the bar. He might be rough around the edges, but Caleb Hunter is a good man.

As I made my way to the back room, my eyes were drawn to the top of the gothic staircase. I came to a standstill as I caught sight of Leila hovering by the railing. She was holding something to her chest. She didn't falter or jump as I locked eyes on her. Instead, she held up one of her hands and waved, giving me a toothy grin.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was just being polite, trying to settle in and make friends. But Eve thought the serpent was a helpful guide and look how that turned out.

No, I'm wary of this snake in the grass.

I gave her a simple nod and then continued through into the back. I collected my things and headed outside, shrugging on my coat on my way to Wanda.

Fishing inside my purse, I grabbed my keys from the bottom of the bag. But as I pulled them out, something silver slipped out of my grip and dropped on the ground. I frowned and bent over to pick it up. It looked like a credit card at first, the same shape and size, but as I turned it over I read the smooth engraving on it.

**ESCALA**

Christian's key-card.

I forgot I still had it. He didn't even mention it the last time I was at his place.

I toyed with the card as I climbed into my car. I really should give it back to him. Whenever I see him next.

Which could be anytime. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday morning.

My gaze scanned the buildings to the right of the parking lot. Escala was lit up like a Christmas tree, spirally high into the night. The top floors were brightly lit but it's impossible to see inside. The glass is too dense for anyone on the outside to see into Christian's life.

It's just after two in the morning.

I imagined Christian pacing his apartment, exhausted but unable to sleep.

_I don't want to sleep on my own… I can only sleep when I'm holding you. I don't want the nightmares to come back._

His words tugged on my heart.

I turned on the engine and reversed out of my spot, Escala on my mind.

* * *

I pulled into the basement garage and parked in one of Christian's spaces, killing Wanda next to his black sports car. I grabbed my purse from the passenger's seat and locked the car, swiftly moving to the elevator.

The doors slid open as soon as the key-card neared the scanner. They sealed shut around me and after punching in the unique code I'd already memorised, I was rocketed up to the top floor.

As the elevator came to a stop at the penthouse suite, I prepared myself to step out into the apartment.

But the doors didn't open.

I reached for the button and jabbed it several times. The doors wouldn't budge.

"Come on," I grimaced, slamming the button one final time. "Don't be a fu –"

Without warning, the walls snapped open and beyond them stood a beast of a man. He stood tall and wide, his hands raised and ready for battle.

"God –" Taylor exhaled a hard breath, his eyes popping open as he registered that it was me standing in front of him. "Miss Steele."

"I, um," I gulped. "I –"

"I didn't get time to check the camera feed," he said, lowering his hands to his sides. He took a step back, allowing me room to enter. Which I did with some degree of hesitancy.

"H-How did you know?" I asked, my brows furrowed.

"I receive an alert every time his code is used," he explained, backing away. "I knew it wasn't him. He hasn't left the apartment all day."

"Really?"

Taylor nodded.

I glanced around us, expecting to see Christian appear from the shadows, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"He's in his office," Taylor explained, as if reading my thoughts. "He'll be glad to see you, Miss Steele."

He gave me a smile and then turned on the spot, heading across the length of the apartment and then slipping out of view.

I gave myself a moment before I left the lobby and advanced to Christian's office. I shrugged off my coat, leaving it, my purse and my shoes by the elevator.

The door to Christian's office was shut when I reached it. I knocked three times, quietly and slow.

"What!?"

His huff was full of annoyance, piercing through the heavy oak door. It made my skin prickle with shivers, and I hesitated before turning the handle and peeking my head inside the room.

He didn't look up from his desk for several moments. He was musing over some papers, his brows low around his eyes.

"I told you I –"

He snapped his head up and fell silent, jerking his head back as he saw me. His glare dissipated as his lips parted.

"Ana?" he muttered, my name croaking out of his mouth. "What are you…?"

"I wanted to see you," I whispered, pushing the door open fully.

A breath caught in his throat.

"I thought you were working tonight," he shook his head.

"Cal let me leave early," I explained.

"Who let you in?" he asked, rounding the desk and stalking his way to me. He stopped just inches from me, towering at his great height.

He lifted his hand to my cheek and stroked his cool fingers over my flushed skin.

"I let myself in," I said, raising the silver key-card I was still clutching. His gaze fixed on it for a second, looking confused. "I completely forgot I had it. Here –"

I offered it to him but he refused.

"Keep it," he grunted. He dipped forward and hovered his lips over mine. His breath was warm and made my skin shiver. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not the only one who can't bear the idea of sleeping alone," I mumbled, my voice struggling against my fervent desire for him.

He groaned a chesty sound and then kissed me. Hard and fast. I fell into him, surrendering my body and pleasure without a second thought.

His fingers pulled at my clothes, making quick work of shedding them from my body. My skirt and blouse pooled on the floor around me, my bra quickly following them.

"Ana…" Christian moaned my name. His fingers crept inside my panties and with a sharp yank, he snapped them clean off my body. I gasped as I felt the cotton break. "You came here for me?"

"Yes," I panted. "Christian, I –"

"You came here for me," he repeated. His lips smothered mine, his tongue lashing against my own. "Oh, Ana."

Stooping down, Christian curled his arms around my hips and lifted me off the floor. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him and fished my fingers through his unruly copper curls.

He held me close to him, his fingers pressing hard into my buttocks as he lead me towards his bedroom. Neither of us cared who might have seen us - seen me in my naked form - because all that mattered was us.

His room was dimly lit as we entered. He laid me down on the bed and quickly climbed over me. He peeled himself away only to remove his t-shirt, my feet sliding his sweat pants down his legs and freeing his hardened length. I licked my lips as I saw it throb and bounce.

His hands were all over me, cupping and squeezing the softer parts of my body. I gripped his biceps and then slid my fingers up to his shoulders, moving them down to the smattering of hair covering his chest.

"No –"

Christian bolted upright, pushing away from me with a start. I froze underneath him, my hands poised in mid-air.

"Don't," he shook his head, his expression turning ashen. Something painful fleeted over his eyes and it left a horrid feeling in my chest.

"Christian?" I sat up. "What…?"

"I don't like being touched," he huffed, his voice frantic. "I can't. I…"

He shuddered.

From the back of my mind, I remembered something from his contract. The submissive isn't allowed to touch the dominant. Or something like that. It bothered me when I read it. I didn't understand it...

I took a moment to trace where my fingers were heading. For the first time ever, I noticed the small white marks on his chest and stomach. Eight in total. Round and unevenly spaced.

"Christian, look at me?" I begged him. He reluctantly dragged his sad eyes up from the bedsheets. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He didn't move or say anything. It was like he was paralysed, stuck in a moment from the past.

"Tell me where?" I asked. I slowly moved closer to him. "Tell me where you don't like to be touched?"

His throat bobbed. He reached out for my hand and took my first finger. He pressed the tip to the base of his throat and drew a straight line across his neck.

"From here," he whispered. He lifted my finger and brought it down to his navel. He traced a line horizontally across his stomach. "To here. All the way around."

"Just your chest and back?"

"I don't like my shoulders being touched," he admitted with a single nod. "Everything else is fine. It's just here –" he waved his free hand over his chest and grimaced, as if disgusted by himself.

I crawled forward and pressed my hand to his cheek. His rubbed his stubble into my palm.

"I didn't realise," I breathed. "I won't touch you there."

"I hate it," he frowned.

I leaned my head to him and kissed his now dry lips. I carefully moved my fingers to the back of his neck, above the invisible line that circles him.

"Is here okay?" I asked. He nodded. I brought my lips to his ear lobe. "They're scars, aren't they? On your chest."

"Yes," he grunted. "I have some on my back as well."

"They're too big to be chickenpox," I thought aloud. He hummed in agreement with me. "Is it a childhood thing?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "I don't –"

"It's okay, baby," I suckled his ear. "I won't touch you there. I promise."

Christian hugged me close to him, squeezing me hard. He buried his head into the crook of my neck and exhaled a heavy sigh. My fingers returned to his curls as I massaged his scalp. He held me for the longest time, before he pulled me back down onto the bed and made passionate love to me.

It was love, not sex or fucking. It wasn't rushed or frenzied. It was caring and like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It was heavenly.

* * *

Stretching out my legs, I looked over the top of my book and shot a glance to the wide-screen TV on the wall. The volume was down, the morning's news on a constant loop.

I smiled as my toes touched the figure sitting at the other end of the couch. I bit down on my lip as I looked down to Christian, watching as he typed email after email on his laptop. Occasionally, he answered his ringing cell phone, but most of the time he just ignored it and filtered his calls. We've been here for hours. We've hardly spoken, but we don't need to. We're comfortable in each other's company. In each other's silence.

We woke at dawn to the sound of his alarm blaring. But Christian swatted the small black box and quickly rolled back onto my body. He had been lying across my chest, trapping me under his weight. He groaned as he laid his head on my breast, declaring that he wasn't going into work today. He said that he would shun GEH and stay here. With me. I didn't take much convincing. I relished in the idea of spending the day with him.

He cancelled all of his meetings and set up camp in the television room. He suggested that I peruse his library and pick something to read, something to occupy me whilst he took care of some urgent business. I picked a copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ from the shelves. It jumped out from amongst the others.

I put down the book and sat upright, swinging my legs off the edge of the couch.

"Are you okay?" Christian broke the silence, throwing me a sideways glance. His stare was narrow, concern passing through his eyes.

"I'm fine," I laughed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Honestly, Christian, I'm fine. I've been having periods since I was fourteen. I think I know what I'm doing by now."

"You were in pain earlier," he reminded me.

"I can handle some mild cramping," I said. "Stop worrying, okay?"

"That's like asking me not to breathe," he sighed and returned his eyes to his computer.

I couldn't help but smile at him. He has been adorable this morning.

Just as I expected, Mother Nature paid me a visit as soon as I got out of bed. I had learnt from past mistakes and found some tampons in my purse, as well as my unopened packet of contraception. I filled the prescription last week, after my appointment with Dr Greene. I took the first pill at 9am, setting a reminder in my phone so I will remember to take it the same time every morning. I could feel Christian's eyes boring a hole in my head as I swallowed the pill.

Standing up from the couch, I tugged on the t-shirt I was wearing. It was one of Christian's, stolen from his closet after our shared shower. I borrowed a pair of pyjama pants too.

"I'm thirsty," I announced. "Do you want a drink?"

"Please," he nodded, his fingers dancing across his keyboard. "I'll have whatever you're having."

I nodded and left him in peace, making my way out of the room and down the long stretch of hallway.

I heard footsteps from somewhere in the apartment. They were light and feminine. _Mrs Jones must be back from the store_, I thought to myself. She'd asked us if we needed anything before she left. Must have been about two hours ago now.

I continued into the kitchen. I took two glasses from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator, searching for the orange juice. Pausing, I felt a sense of unease as I heard the footsteps grow louder, coming to an abrupt halt behind me.

"Excuse me?"

That's not Mrs Jones's voice.

My brows shot up my forehead and I spun around, coming face to face with an immaculately dressed, confused looking woman.

I recognised her immediately. She was the exact image of the woman in the photograph I'd seen on Christian's boat. Her sand-coloured hair was loose now, soft curls resting on her shoulders. She was wearing a long white coat, underneath it a champagne coloured blouse and tailored black pants. Her bright eyes were framed by arched brows.

"Oh my god…" I gulped, my jaw falling open.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my son's apartment?" she asked. "And why are you wearing his clothes?"

I hummed a weird sound. But before I could even get a word out, I heard a patter of quick steps rushing towards the kitchen.

"Mom, is he here?" another female voice asked, high-pitched and squeaky. The young woman came into the kitchen, her black hair straight and cut clean across her jaw. She stood a few inches taller than her mother, but their expressions were the same. "Who are you?"

"Christian!?"

I called out, turning my head to the archway I'd entered through. My voice was shaky, beckoning him to me in record speed.

He appeared quickly, running into the kitchen. He looked panicked as he reached me. I nodded my head across the room and he followed my eye line. His mouth opened wide and he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Mom? Mia?" he shook his head. "What are you doing here?"

"I called your office," his mother began, her eyes unable to shift off me. "Your assistant said you were working from home today, so we decided to pay you a visit."

"You never work from home," his sister announced. Her dark gaze fleeted between me and Christian. "Mom was worried that you were sick or something."

"Maybe I should have called your cell first," his mother added. "I didn't expect you to have company."

"No," Christian shook his head. He gathered himself and moved over to her. He offered both of them a proper greeting, pecking kisses to their cheeks. "No, I'm glad you're here."

"Are you going to introduce us?" his sister asked in a whisper, nodding her head to me.

"Of course," Christian nodded. He turned his shoulders back my way and gave me a crooked smile. He pointed to his mother. "This is my mom, Dr Grace Trevelyan," he explained, even though I already knew exactly who she was. "And this is my little sister, Mia."

The two women nodded in unison.

"Mom, Mia –" he addressed them, keeping his eyes in my direction. He held out his hand to me, palm facing the ceiling. "This is Anastasia Steele. My girlfriend."

_Girlfriend?_

GIRLFRIEND.

My knees buckled.

Girlfriend?

Christian leaned towards me and grabbed my hand. He pulled me into his side, his arm draping around my back. Blood was pumping hard in my ears.

"Are you staying for lunch?" he asked his mother.

"I…" Grace blinked slowly, looking as if she was thinking the same as me in that moment.

"Of course we are!" Mia grinned. She nudged her mom with her elbow. "_Girlfriend_… Oh my god, I have _so_ many questions!"

"Yes, so do I," Grace nodded. Slowly, her bewildered expression shifted into something more like a smile. A small laugh escaped her pink lips. "Wow."

"Good," Christian hummed. His fingers pressed hard into my waist. "Why don't you head on into the lounge? I'll order something in."

I remained at his side as Grace and Mia turned and walked to the couches at the other end of the apartment. I watched as they leaned into each other and whispered between themselves. They each turned and stole another glance of me. They shook their heads and giggled.

Uneasily, I turned to look at Christian. He'd left my side and was rummaging in one of the drawers under the breakfast bar.

"I'll order something from the deli down the street," he declared, finding the correct menu in the drawer.

"Girlfriend?" I choked on the word.

He lifted his eyes to me and frowned. "What?"

"You called me your girlfriend," I said. "I thought you…"

"You wanted a label," he shrugged his shoulder.

I did. It was part of my contract. I wanted to label our relationship, know how I could refer to him to other people. He said he didn't care.

"You wanted a label," he repeated. "Now you've got one."

"Your girlfriend?" I repeated, the word still sounding so alien to me. I've never been anyone's girlfriend.

"Yes," he nodded. He dropped the menu onto the countertop and came back to me. He snaked his hand around the back of my neck, holding me steady as he brought his lips to mine. "How else should I describe you?"

"Girlfriend is good," I gulped. "I like that."

"Good," he smirked and offered me a sweet kiss.

"That makes you my boyfriend," I realised. His smirk grew wider.

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"Your mother is watching us," I breathed, glancing in the corner of my eye to the two sets of eyes currently staring at me.

He peeled himself from me and pressed a quick kiss between my brows. "Head on through," he said. "They won't bite."

"Are you sure about this? We're not supposed to –"

"I trust them," he nodded. "Besides, it's time they meet the woman I'm spending all my time with."

"And you're okay with that?" I wondered. "I thought I was your dirty little secret?"

He frowned and stroked his thumb down my cheek.

"Is that what you think?" he asked. "Ana."

"Your mother is friends with _her_," I reminded him.

"She won't say a word," he promised. "I trust her with my life. I owe my life to that woman."

He looked over to his mother and gave her a smile.

"Just trust me, Ana," he whispered. "They will love you. I know they will."

"Don't leave me with them, please?" I begged. "I don't want to say something stupid."

"Don't be nervous," he urged me. "Just be the sweet, witty Ana I know and they will fall madly in love with you."

I nodded slowly and walked alone to the two women, leaving his side and feeling all the worse for it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

_Here goes nothing..._


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Sophiedog22** \- Thank you! I hope you like this one too. :) Much Love x

**Rustyarbor51** \- You're welcome! :) Thank you for reading. Much Love x

**Piso29** \- Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**Mama** **Mia** \- Excellent choice of pseudonym! :) Thank you. I'm really glad to hear that you liked the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one too! Much Love x

**SuzB** \- Thank you! I wouldn't worry about Grace or Mia. We can trust them. :) Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Lovelies,**

**Hope you're having a great weekend so far! :) **

**I aim on having another chapter ready by next weekend but if for some reason that's not possible, I'd like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas. (Of course, if you don't celebrate it I am still sending lots of love and well wishes your way!)**

**Really hope you like this one. More coming soon!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

I sat down opposite the mother-daughter pairing, the coffee table putting us at a safe distance from one another. They had both shed their outer layers; Grace's long coat was now lying neatly beside her, Mia's denim jacket, however, had been haphazardly thrown aside.

The two women sat with their legs crossed, in the same direction, their hands cupped around their knees. The mimicked gesture made me smile. I admired them already and I've only been in their company for a few minutes.

A moment of awkward silence afforded me a chance to study them. Grace was the slenderer of the two, perhaps only a fraction taller than me. Though, her black suede stilettos disguised her true height. She had a fair complexion, a natural and light blush to her cheeks. Her eyes were round and a soft blue-green colour, like ocean on a clear day. She looked much younger than her years, but I suspected that a surgeon's scalpel hadn't come within a mile of her face.

Mia looked the total opposite of her mother. Of course, I already knew the Grey children were adopted, but still the differences were incredible. Mia was clearly of mixed race, her skin a gorgeous shade of rich caramel. Her eyes were large and dark brown, reminding me of José's. They had friendliness etched into them. Her face was petite and on the rounder side, but her makeup gave the effect of sharp cheekbones. She was vivacious and filled every inch of her short cream dress.

"I love your name," she announced, offering me a wide grin. I snapped my head up, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being caught staring at her. "Anastasia. It's beautiful, isn't it, Mom?"

"Yes, it is," Grace nodded on cue. Her shocked gaze was fixed on me.

"Thank you," I mumbled. I pushed my hair back behind my ears. "Please, call me Ana. I prefer Ana."

Mia repeated my name back to me and nodded her head. Her eyes trailed off behind me, something twinkling in them as her attention shifted onto something else. Curious, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Christian coming towards us, carrying a tray of china cups. Even in just his jeans and t-shirt he looked stunning. He slid the tray onto the coffee table and distributed the cups.

"Cappuccino for Mia. Black, no sugar for Mom," he smiled at his family before turning to me. "And Twinings English Breakfast for Ana."

I smiled at the contents of my cup. "Perfect," I nodded. "Just how I like it."

"Anybody would think you were a barista in a previous life," Grace quipped, blowing over the surface of her coffee.

"I promised I would use the coffee maker you bought me," Christian told her. He sat down beside me, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the couch. I felt his arm move to hang behind me.

"Yes, but exactly how many times have you used it?"

"At least twice," he winked, which made Grace chuckle with sweet laughter. "So, Mother, what brings you here?"

"I've been trying to contact you for days," she stressed. "You haven't returned my calls."

"I have," he protested, his expression firm. "You just happen to be working when I do. I can't help it if our schedules aren't in sync."

Grace sighed and dropped her eyes to her coffee. Her disappointed reaction softened Christian's. He cleared his throat.

"I was hoping that you'd come over for dinner on Friday," she finally replied. "It's been too long since we all sat around the table and ate together."

"We spent a whole weekend together not too long ago," he reminded her. "I came to Aspen, didn't I?"

"You spent the whole time on your phone," Mia interjected, backing her mother up. Christian's eye twitched. "Does he do that around you, Ana?" she asked me. "Is he always on his phone when he's with you?"

My cheeks reddened and I shot a look to Christian. He just rolled his eyes and took a lengthy sip from his cup, offering a sideways glance to his younger sister. I hastily reached for my cup of tea and took a large gulp. The steaming liquid burned the roof of my mouth, but I much preferred that to being dragged into a family feud.

"Christian, darling," Grace leaned forward. A slight furrow formed in her brows. "I miss you, that's all. I know you're busy, but I would like to see more of you. I don't like going long periods of time without speaking."

"I know," he sighed and uncrossed his legs. "I've been very busy lately. Not just with work."

"I have no doubt about that," she hummed and turned her eyes to me. She smiled sweetly and then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ana. We've barged in and interrupted your afternoon. It's extremely rude of us."

"No, it's fine," I fumbled my words, shaking my head a little too vigorously. "Actually, it's nice to finally meet you. Christian's told me a lot about you."

Christian jerked his head to me, narrowing his eyes. It's hardly a lie – more of an embellishment, really. He has told me a little about his family. But sometimes getting information from him is like getting blood from a stone. He's a tough nut to crack, but he's slowly opening up to me. Last night was proof enough. I dare say a handful of people know that he doesn't like to be touched on his chest and back.

"He told me that you're a paediatrician?" I pressed on, focusing on Grace. Her eyes lit up.

"I am," she proudly nodded. "Next year will be thirty years since I qualified. Gosh, that makes me sound so old, doesn't it?" she chuckled a laugh.

"You don't look a day over twenty-five," Christian assured his mother. She blushed at his compliment, love warming her cheeks.

"It must be a very rewarding job," I added. "Working with children. Helping them get better."

"Even in the cases where the outcome isn't great, it's still an honour to know that you can at least relieve some of their pain," she nodded with an empathetic flicker in her gaze. "For both the children and their parents."

"I don't know how she does it," Mia bumped her shoulder against Grace's and grinned. "You're amazing, Mom. I'd cry my eyes out, seeing all of those sick babies."

I agreed with her there. I couldn't hold it together. I hate seeing other people in pain, it breaks my heart.

"Well, as you father always says: I was made from the strong stuff," Grace laughed. "But less about me. Ana, I'm desperate to know more about you – more about the woman who has finally captured my son's interest."

Christian huffed a sound and shook his head.

"Can you hardly blame me for having questions?" Grace shot back at him. Her tone was warm, though her words would have sounded much harsher if anyone else had uttered them. "You have never shown any interest in having a relationship. You've never even mentioned girls to us."

"Dad was sure that you were in the closet," Mia blurted. Christian raised his brow at her, almost as if he had been expecting to hear that. "Not that it would have bothered him. Or any of us, for that matter. We don't care."

"I'm not gay," he assured her, his gaze falling on me as proof that he's very much into women.

"We know that now," she whined. "So, tell us, how long have you been seeing each other, huh?"

She waved her hand in our direction. Christian's silence made it clear that I was in charge of answering that.

"Um," I frowned, wracking my brain for something vaguely coherent. "Well, I met Christian in January. It kind of started from there, really, but we've been seeing each other for… almost a month?"

"A month?" Mia and Grace repeated, their brows raised. Grace continued, "So you were together when we went to Aspen?"

"Yes," Christian nodded.

"How did you meet?" Mia jumped in with another question, shuffling to the edge of the couch as if the answer would reach her sooner.

I pursed my lips and turned my head to Christian. I wriggled my brows in a way that said 'your turn, Grey'. He blinked hard and inhaled a deep breath.

"Ana works for Elena," he revealed in a slow drawl. Unexpectedly, he reached across and lifted up my hand. I tremored at the warmth of his fingers as he curled them around mine. "Ana works at Maîtrise."

"The bar?" Grace asked. I felt embarrassed. Sensing this, Grace offered me an encouraging smile. "We all have to start somewhere, dear. I worked in some horrific places before I went to medical school."

"It's only a temporary job," I added.

Christian sniffed and then continued. "Elena asked me to drop something off at the club. It's only five minutes from here and I was on my way home anyway."

"You were allowed inside?" Mia's mouth fell open. "How the hell did you get inside? I've been asking Elena for months if I can get a membership card!"

My heart jumped into my throat. I closed my eyes for a second, having to remind myself that nobody knows what happens inside the club. I'm not supposed to know.

"I was asked inside," Christian shrugged, moving the conversation along. "I didn't stay long. I dropped off the package and met Ana. We talked for a few minutes, I gave her my business card, end of story. Like Ana said, it progressed from there."

"You didn't think to tell us?" Mia frowned.

"Why would I?" he shot back.

She straightened her spine and tilted her head slightly, changing her tact. I think she sensed that Christian wasn't going to ease up on that point.

"Well, what's it like there?" she pressed on. "Elena is so secretive about the club. She won't allow any of us to sign up."

"With good reason," Grace intervened, patting her hand on Mia's knee. I squeezed Christian's hand. "It's Elena's business – she clearly wants to keep her professional and personal life separate. I can hardly blame her. God knows I don't want to take work home with me every day. Imagine how Elena would feel if she let everyone she knew join. There would be no escaping it."

"But we're hardly strangers, Mom," she shook her head. "It's not as if we'd cause any trouble for her. You've known Elena for years, for crying out loud!"

Something fleeted across Grace's expression. It was only there for a second, but it made her features tighten ever so slightly.

"That's beside the point," she smiled at her daughter. "It's blurring lines and we have to respect Elena's decision."

"I'm not allowed to discuss the club anyway," I added, an attempt to appease the youngest Grey. "It's part of my contract."

Mia opened her mouth to speak but Christian jumped in first.

"If it means that much to you, buy your own damn club," he ordered Mia. "Then you can make the rules and decide who can or can't enter."

"As if I've got the money to do that," she snorted back at him.

"I would help you," he offered. All three of us snapped our heads to him. He looked startled for a second. "What? If it's money you need, I'd invest and help you set up."

"Really?" Mia frowned. "You'd do that? For me?"

"Of course," he nodded without hesitation. "It's about time you found a job. You've been lounging around since you came back from Paris. You need something to focus on."

His offer gave Mia inspiration. She disappeared into her thoughts for a moment, her dark eyes glazing over. I couldn't help but smile at Christian's generosity. He really does amaze me sometimes.

"Are you looking for another job then, Ana?" Grace returned to me.

"Yes," I said. "I'm an English Literature major, so I'm hoping I can put that to good use. I'm not fussy though. At the moment, I'll take anything."

"Literature?" she repeated with a grin. She glanced at Christian. "Brains and beauty?"

Christian nodded back at her. He tightened his grip on my hand, pulling it into his lap, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

"Where did you study?" she asked.

"Washington State," I nodded. "I graduated last year."

That made her brows lift with intrigue.

"Last year? I hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Same age as Mia," she hummed.

The sound of her name being uttered brought Mia back to the room, delving into the conversation with a shake of her head.

"When's your birthday?"

"September tenth," I told her.

"Mine is New Year's Eve," Mia said. "It means I get one hell of a party each year."

"I can imagine," I smiled. "I'm not really a party person. I'd much rather be at home, reading a book."

"Do you have a favourite era?" Grace asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Nineteenth-century British," I replied. "Thomas Hardy, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters."

"Oh, Wuthering Heights is my favourite novel!" she grinned, her eyes lighting up. "For my birthday, Christian surprised me with a first edition. It's my pride and joy. Except for my children, of course."

"Wow," I jerked my head back, shocked. I looked to Christian and he nodded in agreement. "I'd give my right arm for a first edition."

"You should come to our house sometime and check it out," Grace suggested to me. "It really is something to behold."

"I'd love that," I smiled. "I really would."

The conversation was halted at the sound of Christian's cell phone ringing. He stood up and announced that it was our lunch. As he left the couches to go down to the lobby, he pecked a small kiss to the top of my head.

I stared after him, watching as the elevator doors sealed shut. When I returned my eyes to the seating area, I was flanked by the two women. I almost jumped out of my skin. I hadn't heard them move.

"I need details," Mia cut in before I could even speak. She was nearest to me, her knees almost touching mine. "You're the first girlfriend my brother has ever mentioned, let alone introduced to us."

"I guess I must be his first," I mumbled.

"We all thought he was a sworn bachelor," Grace shuffled in close to her daughter. She shook her head. "I can't begin to tell you just how happy I am to meet you. I have been waiting years for this day to come."

Jesus. Anybody would think we'd just got engaged…

* * *

After an hour of continuous interrogation, my throat was scratchy and dry. But I started to feel more comfortable around Grace and Mia as time went on. They put me at ease quickly.

Even when Christian came back into the room, I was still the focus of their attention. He was pushed to the side-lines, but he looked comfortable being out of the spotlight for a change. He sat beside me the whole time, his arm around my back, his fingers gently tracing shapes on my hip.

I reached for a water bottle, needing a breather. My voice was hoarse.

"I think it's time we all give Ana a break," Christian declared. "She's been questioned within an inch of her life."

"I'm sorry," Grace held up her hands. "It's such a shock. I still can't quite believe this."

"You make it sound like a miracle," he snorted. "As if I'm incapable of even speaking to a woman, let alone having a girlfriend."

I shuddered at that word. It sounds so alien – so magical!

"When you've spent this long on your own, Christian, it does feel like a miracle." Grace laughed sweetly. "It makes me so happy to see you finally sharing yourself with someone. Finally trusting somebody enough."

I looked between them and saw unspoken words moving back and forth. I imagined that this subject had been aired before, a mother's concern for her son's happiness.

"Oh –"

Grace edged forward on her seat and reached into her pants pocket. She rose to her feet and pulled out a silver pager, checking the screen. She sighed with a pained look in her eyes.

"It's the hospital," she announced. "I'm needed."

Without a word, Mia and Christian stood up and moved around each other, getting into position. Mia grabbed her things and picked up her mother's purse; Christian collected Grace's coat and helped her into it, smoothing it over her shoulders. They moved with military precision, years of training for moments like this.

Grace tugged on her collar and turned to face Christian. She held her palm to his cheek before raising forward and kissing the same spot.

"Thank you for lunch," she smiled.

"I hope it's nothing serious," he muttered, his voice tinged with sadness. A part of me wondered if this brought a particular memory to the forefront of his mind.

"Me too," Grace sighed. "But if they're paging me on my day off, it's usually bad news."

Mia stepped in to say her goodbyes to Christian. She turned quickly and opened out her arms to me. She caught me off guard, jumping forward and crushing me into a tight hug.

"It's so nice to meet you," she chirped, squeezing me hard before letting go. Her eyes widened. "I can't wait to do this again soon!"

"Neither can I," Grace walked to me and offered a kiss to my cheek, her delicate hand resting on my upper arm. "Why don't you join Christian on Friday? Have dinner with us?"

I was bewildered by her suggestion. I shot a glance to Christian, wondering what to reply with. I like the idea of spending more time with them, getting to meet the rest of the family, but it's all a bit soon.

Grace followed my line of sight and smiled at her son.

"You're coming anyway, aren't you?" she asked.

"I hadn't given you an answer yet," he reminded her, his lips tipped with a smirk.

"You have now," she grinned at him. "And now you're bringing Ana with you. I won't take no for an answer. I know your father will be eager to meet Ana."

His smirk dropped.

"Actually," he cleared his throat. "That's something I need to talk to you about… The reason I didn't tell you about Ana is because we want to keep our relationship private. I don't want anybody finding out about us. Not yet."

"But what about your father?"

"I will tell him myself," he assured her. He glanced between his mother and sister. "I'm asking both of you to keep this to yourselves. Nobody outside of the family can know about us."

Mia was quick to nod her head and agree to his conditions, Grace looked a little more confused.

I braced myself for hearing the troll's name again. Each time he mentions her, my stomach churns.

"Elena can't know about me and Ana," he sighed. He fixed his eyes on Grace. "She can't know that Ana and I are seeing each other. It would cause a lot of problems for Ana, it'd make her time at work unbearable. You know how Elena gets."

Grace raised her brows. "Do I ever," she huffed. "If she could ban all of her employees from having relationships, she would."

"I don't want her meddling," Christian added. "I don't want anybody to ruin what me and Ana have. It's working for us."

Grace smiled at hearing that, and she nodded her head. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't breathe a word of this, not even to your father. Just as long as you promise me something?"

"What?"

"First, you will tell him about Ana," she stipulated. He nodded. "And, second, you bring Ana to dinner. It'll be just the six of us, I promise."

"Fine, we'll be there," he caved. "Now, someone needs your help. Go save a life."

"I'll try," Grace smiled and gave us both another quick goodbye before she raced towards the elevator, Mia hot on her heels.

As soon as the doors slid shut and we were left in silence again, I blew out a hard breath and rounded the couch. I felt lightheaded for a moment, my legs starting to feel heavy after having been sat down for a while.

I paced over to the window, needing a second to gather my thoughts. Talk about a whirlwind…

My gaze scanned the sky, skimming the buildings and the ant-like people on the streets. I didn't hear Christian moving towards me, only realised he had reached me when his hands curled around my waist. He pulled me back against his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"I think that went okay," he hummed quietly. "You handled it well."

"I like them," I nodded. "They seem really nice."

"They are," he assured me. "They're the best."

"Can I ask something?"

"Of course," he nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Just how close is your mother to Elena?" I wondered. I can't bring myself to call her Ms Lincoln any longer. She doesn't serve the formality.

"Not particularly," he said. "They used to be a lot closer, but Grace has distanced herself from Elena in recent years."

"Why?"

"My father acted as Elena's attorney when she was divorcing her husband," he explained. "There was a dispute over his fees and that caused a rift between them. Things haven't been the same since."

"She divorced her husband years ago, didn't she?"

"They separated in 2005, but the divorce wasn't finalised until 2008. Linc strung it out for as long as possible."

"So Grace and Elena aren't joined at the hip?"

"No," he blew out in a laugh. "They see each other in the city, sometimes Elena comes to the events my parents hold, but they don't live in each other's pockets."

"There's no risk of her telling Elena about us either?" I asked, needing confirmation. Even after I've left the club, I don't think I would want her to know about us. I don't like the idea of her knowing anything about Christian's private life.

"I've asked her and Mia to keep quiet and they will," he said firmly. "I haven't forced them to sign NDA's, but I trust them to be discreet. For years they've been hounded by paparazzi and journalists desperate to get an exclusive on me."

I rolled my lips inward, thinking of Kate for a moment. She must have called Christian's office every day for months. I don't think she reached out to his family, though. I hope she didn't.

"I talk to my parents about business deals, especially my dad. I couldn't risk that information leaking," he continued. "They know things about my childhood, from before I was adopted, things about my birth mother. I don't want the world knowing my business. My family respects that and they promised to never break the trust I've built up with them. I trust them and so can you."

"I suppose confidentiality goes hand-in-hand with their jobs," I agreed. "But what about your sister? She seems very excitable."

"She is," he nodded. He turned his face into my neck and kissed the spot just under my ear. It disarmed my nerves in an instant. "Mia is the secret keeper of the family. I've confided in her a lot and she's never once given me reason to doubt her. If anyone is going to rat us out, it would be my brother, but I've already warned him to keep his mouth shut."

I spun on the spot and frowned.

"Wait, what? Your brother already knows about us?"

He nodded slowly.

"But…?"

"I had to tell him," he revealed. "It was the only way I could get that discount for your roommate's car repairs."

"I'm not following," I shook my head.

"Elliot is my brother," he said. "He owns the shop. Elliot Tyre and Service."

"Oh…" I mouthed, my eyes opened wide. "Wow. I didn't…"

"He let it slide when I asked him to fix your car," he explained. "But when I contacted him about your roommate, he said he'd only give her the discount if I explained my connection to the both of you. I knew he wouldn't let it drop unless I confessed the truth about you and me."

"When did you tell him?"

"Friday," he said. "I grabbed a coffee with him at lunch. I told him that we're dating and that you needed a favour for your friend. I warned him to keep his big mouth shut. He made a lot of jokes about me finally losing my virginity. He's lucky I didn't break his nose."

I smiled at that. I could see in his eyes that he does care for his brother.

"He knows I'd kick his ass if he says anything," he added. "Judging by the fact that my mother had no clue who you were, I'd say he's sticking to his word. He would have said something before now. Elliot is worse than a teenage girl."

"Hopefully I'll get to meet him on Friday," I whispered.

"Grace will make sure he's there," he smiled. "If there's one woman I will never try to boss around, it's my mother. It would be a fate worse than death."

"But you'll boss me around?"

"Of course," he nodded. He raised his hands to my jaw, holding me steady as he slid his lips over mine. "I look forward to bossing you around, Miss Steele… and I'm looking forward to you standing up to me, too."

"You are?" I hummed, cocking my head to the side. "I thought you want me to submit to you, go along with everything you say?"

"It'll give me a reason to punish you," he narrowed his gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "Now, go get me a drink or I'll take you over my knee."

"Is that a promise?"

* * *

I left Christian's apartment in the late afternoon, the full force of my period hitting me like a train. As much as I wanted to stay at his place, I needed to be at home and surrounded by my own things. Sometimes you just need be in your pyjamas, curled up with your comforter, eating your own food. Besides, I only had a couple of tampons in my purse and I wasn't going to ask him to go to the store to fetch me some more.

Christian was reluctant for me to leave. He only stepped back after I promised to update him on how I was feeling. His concern made my cheeks blush, but it also frustrated me. It was too much in a moment when all I wanted to do was eat my body weight in chocolate. God bless PMS.

I had borrowed one of his white shirts to wear over my skirt, my Maîtrise blouse feeling tight against my bloated stomach. I drove away from Escala and to the nearest drugstore, arming myself with enough sanitary products to see both me and Kate through the next few months. She always forgets to stock up.

I finally got home an hour later, finding a white truck parked outside our building. I pulled into my spot and frowned, struggling to see from this angle who was propped up against the truck door.

"Hey!"

A tall blonde waved at me, his mouth curled into a broad smile that stretched right up to his eyes. He left his truck and came over to me, staying a few paces away.

"Ana, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, recognising him as Kate's date from the other night.

"Sorry, I suck at remembering names," he joked. He offered his hand to me, which I shook without too much deliberation. His eyes dropped to the bag I was holding. "Do you need a hand with that?"

"No, I'm good, thank you," I smiled back at him. "It's Lee, isn't it?"

His lips pursed slightly as he inhaled a deeper-than-usual breath.

"Kate said your name is Lee?"

"Yeah," he nodded and laughed again. "I'm supposed to be meeting her soon, actually. She called to say she was running late, but I thought I'd just wait here for her."

I checked the watch on my wrist and saw that it was almost quarter to six. Even on days when she has worked over, Kate is always home by six. I looked over my shoulder and nodded towards the door.

"Do you want to wait inside?" I asked him. "It's a bit cold out here."

"Is that okay?" he checked.

"Sure," I nodded. "We don't have anything worth stealing."

"Damn it," he laughed.

I led him through to our apartment, letting him inside first. He hovered in the kitchen whilst I turned on all the lights. He ran a hand back through his floppy blonde hair and proceeded to shrug off his leather jacket, revealing a black polo shirt underneath. The back was emblazed with the Elliot Tyre and Service logo.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked him. He spun to face me and nodded. "Coffee or…?"

"Coffee would be great," he smiled.

"Do you take milk or cream?"

"No, just black, please," he said. "No sugar either. I'm afraid I take my coffee like my mom – so strong you could stand a spoon up in it!"

I smiled and began fixing his drink, throwing a Twinings into my favourite mug. I gestured for him to take a seat at the counter.

"Good day?" he asked me, drawing my eyes up from the stove. There was no doubt that he was a handsome man, what with his Ken doll features and broad frame. I could see why Kate was attracted to him.

"Yes, thank you. You?"

"Busy," he nodded with a sigh. "I'll look forward to a break at the end of the month. I need a vacation!"

"Going anywhere nice?"

"I'm not sure yet," he shook his head. "Somewhere with plenty of beer."

I finished his coffee and slid the cup his way.

"How long have you worked at the repair shop?" I asked, making small talk. I cupped my tea between my palms and leaned against the counter behind me.

"Erm, a while," he shrugged. "Since the new owner bought it. I started out in construction, but I've always been interested in mechanics. Luckily, I found a way to combine the two. I move between jobs."

"That's good," I nodded. "You must be good with your hands then."

"If you need any pictures hanging, I'm your man," he tapped his chest and grinned. "Just don't ask me anything smart. I'm not exactly the brainy type. I'm not good with books and stuff like that."

"I'm the opposite," I said. "I'm useless at DIY, but give me a book and I can write you a ten-page paper without even breaking a sweat."

"You met Kate in college?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement to my ears.

"During our first week," I nodded. "We've been inseparable ever since. She's like a sister to me."

He went on to explain that Kate has talked _a lot_ about me. I learned that in the three days since they met, they have spent an enormous amount of time together. That can only mean one thing: Kate is already head over heels for this guy.

I was mid-sentence when I heard the familiar chink of a key slipping into the lock. I turned and stared at the door, waiting for Kate to come barging through. She grumbled a greeting to me as she entered, throwing her keys in the bowl and dropping her purse on the floor. She perked up as soon as she clapped eyes on Lee. Her green eyes sparkled and her lips sliced open, revealing a toothy grin.

"Hey you," she hummed, tilting her head to the side and making her blonde curls bounce. "I was going to call you when I got home."

"I swung by and was waiting for you outside," he smirked. "Ana let me in. We've been talking about you."

"All good things I hope," she laughed and shot me a quick glance. I smiled and she mouthed a 'thank you'. "Well, I just need to change and grab my stuff, then we can leave."

Kate moved around me and headed for the refrigerator. She peeked inside and picked out a bottle of water, using it as an excuse to lean in to me.

"I'm staying over at his place tonight," she whispered in my ear. Her voice was full of excitement. "He has an apartment in Bellevue."

"Impressive," I raised my brows. "Remember to be careful."

"I always am," she smiled. "He's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"He's definitely your type," I nodded. "I can see why you're attracted to him."

She peered over my shoulder and sighed. "And he's great in bed. Knows how to press all the right buttons."

"Makes a change," I smirked. She's had a string of bad partners. I usually have to hear it both during the act and the morning after, when she's slating the latest notch on her bed post.

"I'm not letting this one go," she winked. "There's just something about him. I can't explain it."

"I know exactly what you mean," I nodded.

* * *

Kate and Lee left for the night, his arm wrapped around her back, her steps springy and full of anticipation. They looked like a pair of love-struck teenagers. How is it possible that they've only known each other for three days? Three. Days.

But who I am to question it? I was tormented by Christian from that very first meeting, seeing him walk through the doors of the club, his suave and cool demeanour causing something to stir deep inside me. I wanted him then and I want him even more now.

I milled around the apartment, clearing away dirty plates and hanging up the clean laundry that Kate likes to drape all over the place. Honestly, she's worse than my mother. Finally grabbing a moment to sit down, I reached for my iPhone and checked my messages. There was a text from Christian:

**How are you feeling now? Do you need anything? C x**

I couldn't be bothered to type out a reply, so I decided to call him. He answered after just one ring.

"I was just about to call you," he said in lieu of a greeting. "You didn't text back. I was starting to get worried."

"I'm not going to bleed out," I reminded him. "That's not how it works… I'm still feeling like a bag of crap."

"Is there anything I can do?"

I took a deep breath and looked around the apartment.

"I have the apartment to myself," I told him. "Kate's staying out for the night, so I'm all alone."

"Do you want me to come?" he asked.

"In more ways than one," I muttered back, my words exciting a moan from deep inside his throat. The sound tickled my ear. "I'm going to take a hot bath."

"Make sure to take some Advil," he ordered. "I have some errands to run, but I'll be with you in about an hour. Is that okay?"

"The sooner the better."

I could practically hear him smiling.

"Get off the phone and take a bath," he grunted.

"Bossy," I tutted.

"Do I need to remind you just how bossy I can be?"

"No, my butt is still throbbing. _Sir_."

"Good," he said. "My palm is still twitching. I'll see you soon."

He hung up before I could say anything back. I laughed all the way to the bathroom.

* * *

Hearing the buzzer disrupting through the silent air, I clambered out of the tub and dried myself off before pulling on my white robe.

I slid across the floor and buzzed Christian into the building, leaving the apartment door unlocked so he could let himself inside. I returned to the bathroom and drained the tub, clearing away the different lotions and potions I've used to help make myself feel human.

"Ana?"

Christian's deep voice sent shivers through my body.

"Just a minute," I called out. I glanced in the mirror and wiped away the smudged mascara under my eyes.

I left the bathroom and raced out to meet him in the kitchen. I came to a grinding halt when I saw him.

He was stood just in front of the door, dressed down in a navy t-shirt and dark jeans. In his right hand he was carrying a large paper bag, which I assumed was our dinner for the evening. In his left, however, he was holding an enormous bouquet of pink roses. Their bloom was more vibrant than I have ever seen, the long stems tied together by a red ribbon.

With a smile, he turned to the side and showed me the gold box tucked under his arm. Chocolates.

"What…?" I shook my head, suddenly feeling confused and overwhelmed.

"You said no more extravagant, expensive gifts," he said. "But I remembered you saying that no one had ever bought you flowers or chocolates before. So I got you both."

"Why?"

"Because I want to spoil you, Ana," he replied, shyness embedded in his tone. "You deserve to be spoiled, to feel special and wanted… I got you this too."

He held out the paper bag to me. I stepped forward and took it from him. It was heavier than it looked, full to the brim with different bottles, tubs and sachets, not the dinner I was expecting. Bubble bath, body wash, shampoo and conditioner, face cream. I rummaged to the bottom and found heat pads, pain relief, even a box of tampons. It was the ultimate period party bag.

"I said I would look after you," he reminded me of his contract, how he looks after a submissive when they're sick. "Granted, you're not sick. But I still want to take care of you."

My eyes stung with the sheer magnitude of his kindness. I licked my lips and shook my head.

"Nobody has ever done this for me," I gulped. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," he breathed.

He closed the gap between us, placing the roses and chocolates on the counter as he reached me. In one swift movement, he cupped the back of neck and ravished my lips, his tongue lapping against mine.

He took the bag from my hands and set it down next to the chocolates, before scooping me up his arms, his fingers pressing hard into my buttocks and keeping me from falling.

"Are you sure your roommate isn't coming back tonight?" he asked, stealing another eager kiss.

"Yes," I nodded. "But I can lock the door, just in case."

He stepped backwards and I reached behind him, sliding the chain into place.

"Done."

"Thank fuck for that," he groaned. He picked up his pace and carried me towards my bedroom.

"This could get messy," I warned him, my fingers tugging on his copper curls.

"I really don't care." He sucked on my lower lip. "I need to be inside you. Now."

He dropped me onto the bed and tugged on my robe, pulling it apart. He stood between my thighs, admiring my naked body.

"What are you waiting for then?" I panted, my chest heaving with desire.

He smirked and slowly unzipped his pants.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Rustyarbor51** \- Thank you! Yes, Lee and Elliot are one and the same. For reasons which will be revealed in the next chapter, I promise! Much Love x

**Sophiedog22** \- Thank you. I'm really glad you liked the previous chapter! :) As always, I hope you enjoy this one too! Much Love x

**Piso 29** \- Thank you! Really glad you're liking this side to Christian. Oh yes, I wouldn't like to be in Elliot's shoes! I think Christian may have a thing or two to say to him, when he finds out what's been happening. :) Hope you had a great Christmas, too! Much Love x

**SuzB** \- Hm, I wonder too... A first edition might be in the works! :) Thank you! I hope you like this update. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Lovelies,**

**I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas/end of December! Thank you for the well wishes for the holiday season. :)**

**As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to more. I can't wait to explore more of this story with you in 2017.**

**Happy New Year! See you on the other side. **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

Wearing just my bath robe, I sat cross-legged on the couch, still feeling the post-coital rush running through my veins. I had almost finished my plate of Chow Mein, practically inhaling it as soon as it was delivered. Christian certainly knows how to work up a girl's appetite.

He sat beside me as he worked his way through his own meal – Szechuan chicken and rice. I turned to look at him for a moment, admiring his profile as he worked another portion into his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the TV and the episode of _The X Files_ that was currently playing. He demanded that we watch it when I flicked through the channels and came across it.

"I used to love watching this when I was a kid," he had said, a smirk covering his lips. I gave into his wish. I was never a fan of the show, but I'd happily sit through anything just to please him. I'm already acutely aware that his happiness can be fleeting, like gold dust. Something to treasure whilst it lasts.

Christian watched the screen until the commercial break, then turned his eyes to me. His fork was poised in front of his open mouth.

"Jesus, you finished that quickly." He raised his brow and shot a glance to my plate.

"I was hungry," I shrugged my shoulders. Leaning forward, I slid my plate onto the coffee table and grabbed the container with the last remaining spring rolls. I'd been eyeing them for a while. "Do you mind if I have these?"

"No, not at all," he smirked and shook his head. A small laugh brewed inside his chest. "I guess I don't have to worry about you eating after all."

"I always get like this," I explained. "Hormones love carbs."

He smiled back at me and then returned to his plate, finishing up the last few mouthfuls before setting it down on the table. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth.

"This is nice," he announced with a nod.

"Yeah, it's a good restaurant. Kate and I always order from them."

"No, I meant this –" he waved his hand around himself. "Doing this sort of thing. It's nice."

"You're not bored?"

"I could never be bored when I'm with you," he said, a slight frown developing over his brows. My stomach warmed at the sincerity in his voice. "I look forward to spending time with you, Ana. I never thought in a million years that I'd find myself doing this – eating takeout in front of the television, doing something other than sex with a woman."

I paused for a moment, before asking: "Does it bother you? That we haven't done much of what you want?"

His frown deepened, as if he hadn't fully understood what I meant.

"You know," I continued. "We agreed to be equal in our time together, but so far we've only really done things I want to do… We haven't been inside your playroom properly yet and –"

"What I enjoy, it's more than just sex," he explained. "It's not all about tying you up and fucking you senseless. Dominance is much more than that. It's in the mind."

"But –"

"Trust me," he interjected. "This is working for me. So far… Do I want to take you into my playroom? Absolutely. And I will. But we're working our way up to that."

I nodded my head, accepting his answer. I was worried that he wasn't getting enough from me.

He reached across and linked his fingers with mine, drawing my hand up to his mouth and pecking a kiss to my knuckles.

"I'm enjoying vanilla," he admitted. "I never thought I would, but you've changed that for me."

I licked my lips and gulped hard.

"Maybe you just weren't open to the idea before," I suggested with a shrug. He shook his head. "Or maybe none of the women you'd been with wanted to –"

"You're not the first woman who wanted more," he said.

I jerked my head back a little, surprised to hear that. I frowned at him.

"You're the only one I've been willing to try that with," he assured me. "My last submissive wanted more. She wasn't content with keeping our arrangement strictly dominant-submissive. It's the reason I terminated the contract."

"What happened?"

"We clashed over it and she made it clear that's what she wanted," he explained. "It was a bad match anyway. She wasn't the type of submissive I needed. She was too argumentative, too clingy. The contract only last two months."

"How long ago was this?"

"I ended it in November," he said. "She was the last woman I had sex with - before I met you."

That surprised me. A man like Christian could have any woman he wants. I couldn't imagine him being without a sexual partner for more than three days. He's sex on legs.

"What?" he smirked at my reaction. "You find that hard to believe?"

"Very," I nodded.

"I'm a busy man. I didn't have time to seek out a new sub," he added. "Then I met you and I wanted only you. I wasn't going to settle for anybody else. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I'm glad to hear that," I smiled. "Because I can't get you out of my head… or my bed, apparently."

He chuckled a laugh and let go of my fingers, reaching out for his glass of wine. He took a sip and leaned back into the couch, staring at me for a moment. I saw this as a chance to keep him talking, seek answers to a question that had been bothering me since lunch.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I wish you'd stop asking if you can ask me a question," he sighed. He nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Does your mom know that you're in business with Elena?"

"Yes," he nodded. "She knows that I have shares in Elena's salons. Obviously, she doesn't know about the clubs."

"Obviously," I repeated with wide eyes. "But doesn't it bother her? The fact that you're in business with someone she's fallen out with?"

"No," he said. "I started working with Elena well before she and my parents had their disagreement. When it happened, I spoke to Grace and Carrick about it. I asked them if they wanted me to cut ties with Elena."

"Would you have done that?"

"If they asked me to," he nodded. "But Grace said no. She told me that it wasn't my place to get involved. The argument was between the three of them, and Grace didn't want me to be dragged into it. She said that it didn't bother her whether I continued to work with Elena or not. It was my choice."

"That's incredibly diplomatic of her," I breathed out in a sigh. "I don't know if I could be that understanding."

"Grace is one of a kind," he admitted. "I did think about withdrawing my shares in the salons and clubs, but I decided to keep out of the dispute. A part of me wanted to side with my parents, but in the end… I felt like I owed that much to Elena. Financial support. After everything."

I remembered what he said about Elena – what her ex did to her when he found out about Christian. I can understand why he'd feel guilty, but I don't think he should. If anyone should feel guilty, it's that beast of a woman.

Christian sipped at his wine, glancing occasionally at the television.

"I'm trying to push Elena out of Maîtrise," he admitted quietly, in a throwaway comment. "Get her to take more of a backseat. She's made waves across all three clubs. There's been a lot of complaints over the years, from staff and members."

"Somehow I don't think she'll go down without a fight."

I didn't want to reveal what Cal had already told me - about Christian's designs to push Elena out of the business. I didn't think it was the time or place to mention that I knew.

"She agreed to take a step back from staff issues at Maîtrise," he reminded me. "That's something."

I frowned at him. "You haven't spoken to Cal yet, have you?"

"Spoken to him about what?"

"The new girl he hired."

"Why would he?" he shook his head, matching my frown. "He's in charge of hiring. It's nothing to do with me."

"She was recommended by Elena," I added.

If I had placed a bet on him being mad at this revelation, I would have lost miserably.

His expression didn't change, not even fractionally.

"Literally right after you told her to back off, she dropped someone under Cal's nose and told him to hire her," I continued to plead my case. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Was it still Caleb's choice whether or not to hire this new employee?" he asked. I nodded. "Then I don't see a problem."

"Both me and Cal think Elena has done it on purpose, get someone on the inside who can keep an eye on me and report back to her."

"You're probably right," he agreed. "But I trust that Caleb thought of that before he made his decision. He knows what I expect from him. He has your interests in mind – I've made sure of that."

I wasn't content with his response. It didn't fill me with any sense of relief.

Sensing this, Christian shuffled closer into me. He draped his arm around the back of the couch, his other hand sliding across my cheek to keep my attention on him.

"Do you want me to talk to Caleb about this?" he asked in a quiet voice, his thumb stroking my cheek.

"Er, yeah!" I nodded. "You don't get it, do you? She won't give up control just because you tell her to."

"I'll ask Caleb to tweak the rotas and make sure you aren't working when –"

"He's already offered to do that."

"See!" he shook his head. "There's nothing to worry about, is there? I think you're making this into something much bigger than it needs to be."

I pulled my chin away from his hand and arched my brow.

"If you come out with some line like 'I think you're just being paranoid', then you'll be out on your ass before you can say 'vanilla'," I promised him, flexing my finger towards the door.

He clenched his jaw in response, but there was still a mischievous glint in his eyes. I saw his fingers twitching.

Before either of us could say anything else on the subject, the phone began ringing throughout the apartment. Christian eyed it from where he was sitting, frowning at whomever had dared interrupt us.

I tightened the robe around my waist and climbed off the couch, heading into the kitchen and lifting the blaring handset from its cradle.

"Hello?"

"Annie. You're home –"

The sound of Ray's voice shirked off my tension instantly. My lips split into a smile.

"I tried calling you on your cell but there was no answer," he continued. "I thought I'd try you at home, just in case."

"My battery must have died," I apologised. I pressed my hip into the counter and listened to the noise on his end of the call. There was a lot of jeering and a low thud of music. "Where are you?"

"I'm at Phil's," he said. "We're having some drinks to celebrate his retirement."

The name didn't ring any bells with me.

"I just wanted to check in," he said. He stepped away from the noise, presumably outside. "I ran into José. He's here."

"He is?"

I turned to look back at Christian. He was staring at me, his gaze narrow. I held up my fingers and told him to give me a minute. He didn't move, didn't blink.

"Senior," Ray clarified. "He reminded me of little José's exhibit. You know, his photography thing? You got an invite, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head slowly. I began sliding my finger up and down the countertop. "I got it in the mail the other day. I forgot all about it."

"Me too," he admitted with a snort. "He said José was getting worried. Because he hadn't had a reply from you yet."

"I'm going," I announced. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's a big night for him."

"I said you'd be there," Ray hummed into my ear. "It gives me more a reason to go now, seeing as you'll be there. I've missed you, Annie."

"I've missed you too," I mumbled back, feeling a lump in my throat. Whilst I talk to Ray on the phone all the time – at least once a week – it has been months since I last saw him. In fact, I don't think I've seen him since I moved to Seattle, almost a year ago. "It's been too long. I need a hug."

"Me too," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Why don't we grab dinner after the show? We can catch up then. You can tell me all about this new job of yours. I want to know all about the book publishing world."

I grimaced at that. I hate lying to him, but I couldn't face telling him the truth. He knew that I had applied for tons of jobs and just assumed I'd settled for something in publishing. It had always been a dream of mine. I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise, so I kept up the pretence. Not my finest moment, I'll admit.

"Right, Annie, I need to go," Ray declared, a burst of noise erupting around him. "The guys are starting a game of poker and they need someone with brains to deal the cards."

"You're definitely the right man for the job," I giggled.

From somewhere close behind me I heard a loud sniff. I turned and was startled to see Christian at my side. He stalked around me, on his way to the refrigerator, his body brushing past mine as he moved. He lingered in front of the open fridge, staring inside, lending his ear to my conversation.

"I'll see you on the 27th," Ray said with a smile in his voice. "I can't wait to see you. I love you, Annie."

"I love you too," I replied.

Christian's spine stiffened. He sniffed again.

"To the moon and the stars," I continued.

"And right back again," Ray finished our saying before adding his goodbyes.

I hung up the call and placed the phone back where it belonged. Christian pulled a wine bottle from the fridge, helping himself to a new glass from the cabinet above. He turned to look at me, an arched expression spreading over his tight features.

"Who was that?" he asked bluntly, straight to the point.

I studied his eyes for a moment, calculating my next move. I thought about teasing him, poking that the hint of jealousy I was getting from him. But, in the end, I decided not to. Not after I witnessed something dark - pained - pass through his steel grey irises.

"It was my dad," I revealed in a shaky breath. "It was Ray."

His shoulders dropped in an instant, a hard breath exploding from between his lips.

I don't know what compelled me to move from my spot by the phone, but I found myself gliding towards him, my hands outstretched and reaching for his cheeks.

I slid my fingers around his stubble-scorned jaw, until my hands linked at the back of his neck. I pulled him down to my level and pressed a kiss to his mouth. I could feel him melting into my touch.

"Did you get worried for a second?" I whispered. He answered with a hard, ardent kiss. "Oh, Christian…"

"I won't share you," he declared harshly, as if speaking directly to my soul.

"It was just my dad," I repeated, even though I knew exactly what he meant.

"The idea of you and another man," he growled, taking another kiss from me. "Another man looking at you the way I do."

His hands grappled my waist, pressing hard through the fluffy fabric of my robe. Slowly, his hands moved around my back and followed the curve of my buttocks. He yanked me into his chest, commanding me without objection.

"You really don't have to worry about that sort of thing," I promised him once he'd finally allowed me to come up for air.

He stared into my eyes and shook his head.

"You don't see it, do you? You don't see how desirable you truly are," he exhaled.

A breath caught in my throat, forming a lump that I found hard to gulp down.

"Fuck," he grunted. He smacked his lips to mine again. "You're mine, Ana. Do you understand? Only mine."

"Yours," I panted, launching myself at him. I feathered my fingers into his hair and tugged on the curls at his nape. "No one else… Only you."

"Good," he hummed. His hands cupped my butt in that signature move he does before he lifts me off the floor. He raised me to his height, keeping my body close to his. "I won't share my _girlfriend_ with anybody."

Oh god.

That word weakened me to the core, shivers ripping through my veins.

"Take me to bed," I ordered.

"No."

"Huh?"

He strode forward until my back met the wall behind me. I gasped I was pressed against the cold, hard surface. He pinned me in place, holding me up with just a single hand under my butt. I wrapped my legs around him, hugging him tight, linking my ankles around the top of his thighs. With his other hand, he reached between my legs and shoved his pants down, just enough to free his erection. I gasped as his fingers slid across my sex and pulled my panties to one side.

Without warning, he buried himself deep inside me. I took all of him in a single thrust.

"Christian!" I cried his name. "Fuck –"

"My girlfriend," he repeated, driving his hips into mine, pushing me further up the wall.

"Again," I pleaded. "Don't stop… Please... Don't -"

"Never," he grunted through a kiss, sucking at the base of my throat. "You're mine. Mine… _Mine_."

* * *

The week passed much quicker than I hoped it would. I blinked and Friday appeared from nowhere. I woke early that morning, making sure I had enough time to primp and preen myself for dinner with the Grey family. I wanted everything to be perfect. I even went out to the store to buy some flowers and wine for Grace. I had called Cal on my way there, asking his advice of which bottle to buy. It was an expensive bottle and I couldn't pronounce the name of it, but I trusted his palate much more than my own.

Glancing at the clock on my bedside counter, I saw that I had a little over an hour before Christian was due to arrive.

Fuck.

I haven't even got dressed yet.

"Kate?" I called out, my voice tinged with panic. "Kate, can you come in here for a minute?"

I heard her roll off the couch and shuffle towards my room. She came to a dead halt in the doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck…?" she breathed as she scanned the room, taking in the chaos that had exploded over every surface.

I was sat on the floor in front of my closet, surrounded by clothes and shoes. The vast majority of my things had been thrown aside in distaste. I had forgotten just how much stuff I owned, and how much of it I actually don't like. I'm not a hoarder but I have grown out of most of my things. Not literally, of course, just in terms of my tastes. I'll always be a jeans and converse kind of girl, but I've started to appreciate more dressier items in recent weeks. Dresses, skirts, lace and silk…

Basically everything but the clothes I currently have to hand.

Kate shot me a look, her brows low around her eyes and knitted with confusion.

"What the hell happened in here?" she asked. She tried to hotfoot it to my bed, almost tripping over a pair of jeans on the way. "Did a bomb go off?"

"I'm on the brink of a nervous breakdown," I sighed, burying my head in my hands.

"You're only going out for dinner," she snorted a laugh, flopping down on the end of my bed.

"I still want to look nice," I retorted.

As far as Kate is concerned, I'm just having a romantic dinner with Mr X. I couldn't tell her any more than that, not without upsetting her in the process. No, for the time being, I need to keep her out of the loop. She still harbours a lot of upset over the whole 'Christian Grey didn't let me interview him' saga. She grumbles whenever she reads an article about him – if she came face to face with him, there's every chance she might rip him a new one.

Besides, how would she feel if she found out that Mr X's parents know who I am, yet she doesn't know the identity of the man sharing my bed and coming in and out of our apartment most nights?

No. I can't do that to her. I need more time to figure things out - figure out a way to get her to think differently of Christian.

Kate leaned forward and picked up some of the clothes by her feet. She examined them briefly.

"These are pretty," she said unconvincingly. "Any of these would look great on you."

I shook my head at the skirt and blouse she was holding. I need to look family-friendly, but not in a way that suggests I have a dozen cats waiting for me at home.

Kate rolled her lips inward and blew out several hard breaths. She clapped her hands together and let her green eyes cross the floor.

"Right," she hummed, bolting up from the bed. "Go get me a beer. This might take us a while, but Cinderella will go to the ball."

"I have fifty minutes to get ready," I told her. "Hair, makeup…"

"Then you better move fast, Steele," she blinked and shooed me out of the room.

I trudged to the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles from the back of the top shelf. I needed something to settle the butterflies in my stomach.

Taking a sip from my bottle, I picked up my iPhone from the counter and checked my messages. There was a text from Christian, confirming that he'll pick me up at 7:30pm.

I hadn't heard Kate move from my room to hers, only realised that she'd switched when I found my cesspit empty. Peeking my head around her door, I watched as she rummaged around in her closet. She had her back to me, her long blonde hair cascading down her back in soft waves. She slid her hangers back and forth.

"Ah-ha!" she declared, pulling something from the rail. She turned on the spot and held up a dress with a proud smile. "Will this do?"

I stepped forward and ran my fingers over the ruffled skirt. The dress was a deep wine colour, rich and plum-toned. It was sleeveless with thick straps and a low V at the bust, the wrap-around front was held in place by a tie on the waist. It was made from satin, the fabric smooth under my fingertips.

"Well?" Kate asked, her brows dancing as she waited for my answer.

"It's beautiful," I whispered. "I've never seen you in this before."

"I've never worn it," she smiled. "My mom bought it for me a couple of months ago, but it's not really my style. It's too dark for my skin tone, but…"

She held the dress up to my chin and pulled me in front of her full-length mirror. She stood behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

"It would look perfect on you," she grinned. "Would do you say?"

The layered skirt sat just above my knees, scalloped in a way that would accentuate anybody's curves. Simple, yet intricate.

"It's yours if you want it," Kate offered. I looked at her in the mirror and was about to shake my head, but she interrupted first. "I'm serious. It'll look so much better on you… Just throw on some nude heels and that cream jacket you wore to graduation, then you'll be good to go."

I envisioned the outfit in my head, nodding as I saw myself in it.

"I could wear the sapphire earrings Ray gave me for my birthday," I added. "And maybe curl my hair a little?"

Kate nodded and bounced on the spot, approving of my choices. She hugged me from behind, squeezing my waist. I fell into her and shook my head.

"What would I do without you?" I wondered.

"You'd probably die," she said with a sincere expression over her face. "You'd be heartbroken. Not even Mr X could help you through it."

"I'm sure he could help distract me," I laughed. "He's good at that sort of thing."

"Oooh, tell me more!" Her eyes lit up. "Is he a ten out of ten?"

"I have no one to compare him to," I said. "But he's… _incredible_."

"Tall?"

"Extremely," I nodded.

"Dark hair?"

"In certain lights," I shrugged.

"Well hung?"

"Kate!"

She giggled and held her hands apart, to a gap of only five inches or so. I rolled my lips inward to stop myself from grinning.

I reached down and widened the gap she'd made. Her brows shot up her forehead.

"Ana!" she gasped. "Holy shit… No wonder you've always got a smile on your face. You lucky bitch."

* * *

At 7:30pm on the dot, Christian sent me a text to say that he was outside. He had parked a short walk away from the apartment building.

I kissed Kate goodbye and thanked her again for helping me get ready, before donning my long jacket and leaving the apartment. It was cool outside, the air still thick with winter's ghost and drizzling light rain over our patch of the city. I turned and looked down the street, spotting Christian's sports car. He flashed his headlights at me, beckoning me over.

I teetered to the car and let myself in, trying to be as graceful as possible whilst juggling my purse and the giftbag for Christian's mother. I found my heels in the back of my closet, opting for blush over Kate's suggested nude. They're much easier to walk in and don't shred the skin on my toes.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I closed the door behind me and turned to offer Christian a kiss. He was a step ahead of me, as always, quick to plant a wet one on my lips.

"Hey," I breathed as he pulled away and reclined back into his seat.

"I've missed you," he said in lieu of a greeting, his gruff voice sending a tingly wave through my core. I pressed my thighs together.

"It's only been three days," I said.

I haven't seen him since late Tuesday morning, when he left for a late meeting. He'd spent most of the morning between my thighs. I didn't see him that night – for reasons I don't know. We've both been busy all week, but we still found time for a heated conversation over the phone - just as I was getting ready for bed after a shift at the club, and he was dressing himself for a day in the office. That sex toy I took from his playroom certainly came in usual...

Just thinking about it again made my skin prickle with the urge to climb into his lap and –

"What's in the bag?" Christian asked, breaking me away from my thoughts.

"I bought some flowers and wine," I explained, even though the bouquet was half hanging out of the silver bag. I reached inside the bag and showed him the wine bottle. "They're for Grace. The flowers, I mean. I didn't want to arrive empty-handed."

"That's very thoughtful of you," he nodded, appearing surprised by my gesture. "Are you ready for this?"

"I think so," I gulped. "Did you talk to your dad?"

He nodded.

"And?"

"He can't wait to meet you," he smiled. I blew out a hard breath. "You look amazing," he observed, his gaze roaming the length of my body. "I'm going to enjoy fucking you later, Miss Steele."

He placed his hand on my thigh and began to slowly hitch it further up my leg, his fingers dipping inwards and moving salaciously towards my panties.

I clamped my hand around his, stopping him from going any further.

"Later," I promised. "I want to make it to your parents' house in one piece."

He threw his head back and laughed, knowing exactly what I meant by that.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Julia - **Thank you! I'm really glad you liked the last update. I hope you enjoy this one too. :) Much Love x

**Sophiedog22 - **Thank you! Glad you liked it. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

**SuzB - **Thank you! Hope you had a great New Year's. I hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Baby - **Sorry for the delay! I hope you like this chapter. Thank you! Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Lovelies,**

**Thank you for the love on the last chapter and for patiently waiting for this update. I had a _huge_ research paper to write and it zapped all of my energy. Alas, it's done now and here is the next instalment of Maîtrise. I really do hope you enjoy it!**

**A brief catch up on what's happened so far: Grace and Mia paid a surprise visit to Escala and met Ana. Christian introduced her as his girlfriend and after an interrogation filled lunch, Grace invited both of them for dinner. Carrick was then the only person in the family who didn't know about Ana - Christian told Elliot in order to secure the discounted car repairs for Kate (Elliot owns the garage!). Elliot is now dating Kate but she believes his name is 'Lee' - Kate is infatuated with him! The last chapter ended with Ana preparing for dinner at Bellevue. **

**Hope you like it! Working on more now.**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

When I thought about where the Grey family live, I pictured a big house on a hill with blacked out windows, a property surrounded by trees and positioned away from prying eyes. I imagined Escala but multiplied by a hundred. Christian gave me just a brief description of the house he'd lived in from the ages of six to twenty, minus his very short stint at Harvard. He explained that he was born in Detroit – as were Elliot and Mia – but his parents moved the family to Seattle a few months after Mia was adopted. He told me that Grace had overseen all of the renovations, ensuring that the house perfect and exactly how she wanted it. Carrick, by all accounts, didn't have a say – Mama Grey has always worn the pants in that household.

Christian slowed the car down and prepared to take the next turning, creeping towards a set of gleaming silver gates. We were held there for only a few seconds before they swung open and revealed a long, winding driveway. I was right about the hill – the drive sloped down, lined with evergreens, unfolding into a circle in front of the house. There were a number of cars already parked on the drive, Christian pulling his sports car into an empty spot between a black Mini Cooper and a silver convertible. The view straight ahead afforded me a glimpse of the grounds, emerald green grass spanning for a mile, a meadow of wild flowers just dipping out of sight.

Without a word, Christian killed the engine and climbed out of the car, closing the door behind him. I watched as he straightened his jacket, buttoning it up with his deft fingers. My stomach was in knots and I could feel my palms starting to clam up.

Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped out onto the gravel and re-adjusted my dress, making sure the hem was down and not tucked into my underwear. The last thing I want is to flash my panties at his father.

Christian walked around the car to meet me.

"Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand. I accepted it tentatively.

"Are you sure I look okay?" I said for the tenth time already. I turned on the spot, making sure he could check from every angle. "Is my dress -?"

"You look incredible," he interrupted, squeezing my hand tight. "Stop worrying. Jesus, you're making me feel nervous."

"You weren't nervous already?" I frowned.

He shook his head. "Why would I be? You've already met my mother," he reminded me. "I'd say the hard part is done if you've won her over."

"What about your father?"

"Carrick and Grace are two sides of the same coin," he explained. "If she likes you, which she does, then he will too. The only way they differ is that Carrick can be… well, he can be a bit more reserved. He likes to sit back and watch people, get a sense of who they are."

"A bit like you then?" I asked.

That made him smile.

"Yeah, I guess I do take after him in that way," he nodded slowly. "I never thought of it like that before."

I loved the way his eyes suddenly became rounder, the tired lines in the corners almost disappearing. He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a single kiss to my knuckles before tugging me forward, towards the house.

The front of the Grey family home was overwhelming, but not intimidating. It breathed just one word: _home_.

The slate grey brickwork travelled three-storey's high, the uniformity disturbed only by French-style windows. I looked up and examined each pane of glass, amazed at how polished they were. Each window was emitting a soft amber glow, lighting up the drive and the trees just beyond it. As we reached the porch, I dragged my eyes back to ground level, just as a waft of sweet smelling flowers graced my senses. Perfectly symmetrical bushes lined the porch, white roses in full bloom, not a single blemish in sight.

"I can't believe you grew up here," I mumbled under my breath. "It makes my childhood home look like a hobbit-hole."

"It's a far cry from how I started my life," Christian replied, his tone flat and clinical. I turned my chin towards him and saw a wave of something spread over his face. I couldn't describe it. "I'm very lucky to have been adopted by Carrick and Grace, but I didn't start my life in this kind of luxury."

Before I could respond, the door opened and revealed a blonde woman on the other side. Christian hadn't even knocked the door.

"Mr Grey," the blonde nodded, flashing a smile at Christian. She was young in the face and was wearing a white blouse tucked into a black skirt. Her hair was pinned back in braids. "It's a pleasure to see you again, sir."

Christian gave her a terse nod and then stepped inside, pulling me along with him. We moved into a circular vestibule made up of cream walls and dark wood flooring. There was a large table a few feet ahead, on top of it sat a gold vase holding a plume of peach and yellow flowers. I glanced down at the gift bag in my hand and the now pitiful looking bouquet I'd bought. It's not even a fifth of the size...

"They're here!"

Grace's voice reached us before she did. Her footsteps were rushed and eager, matched with the frantic clapping of her hands. She appeared from an archway to the left of the table. Her eyes lit up as she looked between me and Christian.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she grinned, making a beeline for me. She enveloped me in a quick hug. "It's so nice to see you again, Ana. I've been looking forward to this all week."

"Me too," I admitted, patting her back before she pulled away. "Thank you for inviting me."

Grace took a step back and let her eyes roam the length of my body. "You look beautiful," she smiled. She glanced at Christian. "Doesn't she look amazing?"

"She does," he nodded. I shot my eyes to his and he gave me a reassuring wink. He returned his attention to Grace. "And so you do, mother. That's a beautiful necklace."

Grace's cheeks filled with blush as she stroked the pearls around her neck.

"My son has excellent taste," she smiled at me.

She had paired the necklace with matching earrings, and was wearing a dove-grey dress that fit her body like a glove. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, tamed into soft waves that highlighted her enviable cheekbones.

Looking off to the side, she addressed the tall blonde. "Gretchen, take Ana's coat and purse."

"Yes, ma'am."

Gretchen jumped into action and eased me out of my jacket, then taking my small purse and disappearing with them. I glimpsed down at the silver gift bag.

"Oh, I… I bought you a little something," I stepped forward and offered the bag to Grace. Her eyes widened with surprise, as if she hadn't noticed I was holding something for all this time. "Just to say thank you for inviting me over."

"Oh my goodness," she breathed, her lips splitting into a genuine smile. She took the miniature bouquet out of the bag and sniffed one of the pink roses. "Ana, thank you. You shouldn't have gone to the trouble."

At the sound of distant footsteps Grace turned and looked behind her. From the same archway she had appeared from, a tall gentleman stalked into the reception area. He was the same height as Christian, but he was slighter than his son. His hair was longer too, peppered with grey and giving away his age.

"Aren't they beautiful, Cary?" Grace asked him.

"They are," he nodded, coming to her side. His shirt was the same colour as her dress. He wrapped his hand around her back and leant forward, stealing a sniff from the bouquet. "A very fine choice."

He looked up and met my gaze. The corners of his dark eyes raised upwards, matching the smile on his lips.

"Ana, I assume?" he said, outstretching his hand to me. I nodded. "I'm Carrick – Christian's father."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I shook his hand eagerly. His palm dwarfed mine and he had a steady, firm grip. "Christian has told me a lot about you."

"All good things I hope," he laughed. He turned his attention to Christian and winked a greeting. "I'm glad you made it, son. I fear your mother might have ripped all of our heads off if you didn't."

"Cary!" Grace slapped her hand against his shoulder, shaking her head at him. Laughing, she returned her eyes to the bag and pulled out the bottle of wine inside. She gasped. "Oh Ana... How did you know?"

"Huh?" I frowned. "Is it the wrong...?"

Grace showed the bottle to Carrick, whose eyes widened.

"It was the wine we served at our wedding reception," Carrick explained, sensing that I had no idea what was going on. "Thank you, Ana. That's very thoughtful of you. I'll place it in some ice, we can drink it over dinner. I think it'll go perfect with the salmon."

"We'll be in the library," Grace called as he disappeared to the right, presumably towards the kitchen.

Grace jerked her head to the side and gave us a smile, gesturing for us to follow her. Christian settled his hand in the base of my spine and prompted me forward, keeping me a few steps behind his mother.

"How did you know to buy that wine?" he whispered in my ear. "There's no way you could have known that bottle's significance."

"I asked Cal," I told him, keeping my voice low. His fingers flexed against me. "He suggested it."

"You told him you were coming here?"

"No," I shook my head. "I asked him to recommend a good wine, something that was impressive but wouldn't bankrupt me. That's what he chose."

"Strange," he grumbled.

"Coincidence," I whispered back.

Grace led us into a large, warmly lit room at the end of a long hallway, passing a grand staircase and an open-plan seating area that housed a white piano and a cello. The library was simple in design, the walls lined with shelves and framing the room with endless streams of books. The palate was warm, explosions of amber, rose and gold placed here and there. It was an inviting space, somewhere I could easily loll away a Saturday afternoon.

My eyes were instantly drawn to the nearest row of books and trinkets, picture frames saddled between novels and proudly displaying photographs of the Grey family through the years. The first one I came to was of a young Grace and Carrick. Grace was carrying a small, blonde haired boy on her hip.

"Are the others here?" Christian asked, leading me away from the bookcase and over to the couches. He sat down and tapped the space beside him, beckoning me to sit.

"Yes," Grace nodded, remaining on her feet. "Mia is upstairs and Elliot is taking a call in my office."

"Is it still just the six of us for dinner?" he asked her.

"I promised you, didn't I?" Grace smiled. "Now, whilst we've got a moment… Ana, I laid these out especially for you."

She curled her fingers upwards and ordered me to follow her around the back of the couch. There was a narrow, antique table covered in a lace cloth, with three hardback books sitting atop it. My heart jumped into my throat, immediately knowing what they were.

Tentatively, I stroked my fingers along the cover of the middle book. They were leather-bound, faded and peeling in places, but they were in neat condition for books published over a hundred and sixty years ago.

"They're incredible, aren't they?" Grace hummed. I could feel her giddiness at just being near them.

She reached across and picked up the book on the left. Without a second's hesitation, she placed the book in my hands. My skin prickled as I accepted it.

"Grace," I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. I examined every inch of the time-worn cover, before finally opening it up to the title page.

Wuthering Heights

A Novel,

By

Ellis Bell,

In Three Volumes.

"It's beautiful," I sighed, tracing my fingers over the page, enjoying the feel of the coarse paper.

"Volumes one and two are _Wuthering Heights_," she explained, pointing at the middle book on the table. "The third is Anne Brontë's _Agnes Grey_. That's a wonderful read, but I much prefer _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_."

"I've never read that one," I admitted. "But I will definitely add it to my to-read list."

Grace grinned. "Did you know Charlotte's first novel was supposed to be published in this volume?"

"_The Professor_," I nodded. "It was rejected nine times, I think. Then she wrote _Jane Eyre_ and everybody loved it... Are these the only first editions you have?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed. "But I would love a room full of them. I'm hoping my son is taking note."

"I am," Christian piped up, turning his head to the side. "I already have somebody keeping an eye on auction listings. I'm looking for _Jane Eyre_, as a matter of fact."

I gulped as I heard that. _He knows that is my favourite book_...

No. I shook my head, dismissing that errant thought. He's looking for Grace. I told him no more gifts.

"Right -"

Carrick bounced into the library and raised an ice bucket into the air, a bottle of champagne just peeking out from over the brim.

"Now for something I prepared earlier," he smiled and made his way over to the sideboard where a tray of six flutes had been laid out. "I called Mia and Elliot downstairs. In the meantime, let's open this and raise a toast to Ana and Christian."

I reluctantly set down the book and went back to the couch, taking my seat beside Christian. He placed his hand on my knee and gave it a tight squeeze. I smiled as Carrick popped the cork and poured each of us a glass of the sparkling liquid, as well as two additional glasses for Christian's siblings.

"There you are," Carrick said as he placed a flute in my hand. "Grace, darling, do you want to do the honours?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Mia and Elliot -?"

"We're here!"

Mia's sweet voice cut across Grace's, her light steps tripping into the room and bringing with her a kind of warmth that was indescribable. She was the embodiment of happiness. Her brown eyes sparkled as she spotted me on the couch, and she instantly made her way to me.

But I was distracted by the man following in her wake.

"What…?"

I clambered to my feet and cocked my head to the side.

What is Lee doing here?

He came to a crashing halt in the doorway, eyes wide and his face paling. His body tightened, but not in a surprised sort of way. No, he was expecting this – preparing for this. I can see it in his expression.

"Ana, what's wrong?" Christian's voice asked, sounding distant and echoed.

Oh sweet Jesus.

_Dammit_.

Why didn't I suss it out before?

Elliot Tyre &amp; Service.

El – LEE – ot.

The penny finally dropped… and so did my glass.

I heard the crack before I realised what had happened, the flute tumbling out of my hand and bouncing off the pristine carpet, oozing golden bubbles around my feet.

"Shit –"

Grace rushed towards me, snatching my hands up and examining them without pausing for thought. She took the broken stem out of my grip and placed it down on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry," I shook my head and looked down at my hands.

"You haven't cut yourself," she confirmed. "Goodness, that's never happened before."

"There must have been a fault in the glass," Carrick suggested, looking as confused as I felt. "I'll go grab a cloth."

"The carpet," I mumbled.

"Never mind that, sweetheart!" Grace admonished. "We've spilt a lot worse over the years, believe me… Christian, show Ana where she can get cleaned up. We'll clear up in here. Don't worry."

Christian set his hand on my arm and guided me over the wet patch on the floor. The glass hadn't shattered. It had split clean in two.

As I dragged my eyes up from the carpet, I saw that _he_ had disappeared.

We moved steadily through the hallway, heading for a room opposite from the staircase. Christian was about to usher me inside when I yanked away from him, seeing his brother trying to make an escape up the stairs.

"You!" I called up at him, pointing my finger. "How could you…? Why did you...?"

Lee – _Elliot_ – stopped still and paused before turning to look down at me. He had a resigned look in his eyes.

"You lied to her," I breathed, shaking my head at him.

"What's going on?" Christian asked, coming to my side and positioning himself between me and his brother. He looked up at him. "Elliot?"

"Why did you lie to Kate?" I pressed on.

"Elliot?" Christian said his name more firmly the second time.

"It wasn't meant to go this far," Elliot exhaled in a hard blow, throwing his hand back through his blonde hair. He came down a few steps, until he was level with Christian. "I didn't think it would turn into something."

"What have you done?" Christian growled, narrowing his eyes.

"He's been seeing Kate," I informed him after an awkward pause. I watched as both their shoulders tensed. "He said his name was Lee."

"It kind of is," Elliot protested. "Look, bro, I can explain –"

"Damn right you're going to explain," Christian snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are? Are you seriously incapable of keeping your dick in your pants, or do you have to screw everything with a pulse?"

"Since when do you care who I hook up with, huh?" Elliot frowned, crossing his bulky arms.

"When you began screwing my girlfriend's roommate," he shot back. "I explicitly told you to keep your mouth shut."

"And I did! I didn't tell her anything. She doesn't know about you and Ana, so chill the fuck out."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why couldn't you leave her alone?" Christian asked.

"All I did was ask her out for a drink," Elliot shook his head. "I liked the look of her, so what? I thought it was gonna be a one night thing, two people having a couple of drinks and fooling around afterwards. I didn't expect to see her again."

"You're a fucking idiot," Christian huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That incensed his brother.

"I've kept up my side of the deal, so back off," Elliot warned him. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone your dirty little secret and I haven't. Kate doesn't know that we're related, she doesn't even know my real name."

"Yeah, but how long until she does find out?" Christian grunted, his jaw clenching hard.

Elliot shook his head and swiped past Christian, knocking arms with him as he walked back down the stairs.

"We're not done here," Christian told him.

"I am," Elliot huffed, walking off in disgust. Over his shoulder he called, "You know, I thought you'd finally chill out once you popped your cherry. Guess I was wrong."

Christian made to follow him but I grabbed his forearm, pulling him to a halt. He snapped his head to me, ire in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, slowly shaking his head. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't know," I shrieked. "How was I supposed to know?"

Christian lifted his hands to his face and dragged his fingers down his eyes. He backed away from me and leaned against the banister.

"For fucks sake."

* * *

Grace had placed me on the left of Christian and adjacent to Carrick. Mia started the dinner opposite me, helping to keep the conversation flowing and light, steam still billowing between Christian and Elliot. Although nobody brought the subject up, it was obvious that something had happened between them. I caught glimpses of Grace eyeing the two boys and then throwing a confused look to Carrick.

Just before the main was served, Mia demanded that she and Elliot swap chairs so she could discuss something with Grace without having to talk over him. I hoped he would object and remain where he was, but he stood up and slumped down opposite me. He glanced at me only briefly before throwing his eyes around the room, avoiding me for the rest of the meal.

"Does anybody want coffee?" Grace clapped her hands together, the sharp sound making me jump. "Ana, I have some tea if you'd prefer that?"

"Please," I nodded.

Grace rose from the table and began lifting our dessert plates, ready to take them into the kitchen. Mia and Carrick both offered to help her, using it as an escape from the tension filled atmosphere. I felt like getting up and joining them, but Christian set his hand on my knee, keeping me at his side.

As soon as the door closed behind the three of them, Elliot pushed his chair back from the table and slouched down into it, blowing out a long breath. He slowly lifted his gaze and stared straight at Christian.

"So this has been fun," he snorted, his expression tight, not suiting his boyish features.

"You've done a lot of stupid things over the years, but you have really out done yourself this time," Christian mumbled under his breath. "Well done."

"Thanks, bro," Elliot forced a smirk. "I've finally met someone I actually want to continue seeing and –"

"Bullshit," Christian tutted, narrowing his eyes. "You've known her five minutes."

"And how long have you known Ana?" Elliot shot back, arching his brow. "Exactly. Look, I admit that maybe I should have told you I'd asked Kate out, but I really didn't think it would go this far."

"What did you think would happen?" I asked him, distracting his gaze my way. I made a conscious effort to keep my voice low and steady, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

"Kate made it clear that she was only looking for a good time," he defended himself. "She didn't want anything serious, she said she wasn't ready – something about some guy who screwed her over, I don't know."

"Is that why you gave her a fake name?" I wondered. "So she couldn't track you down later?"

"Yes and no," he shrugged. "One of the guys in the shop calls me Lee, she overheard and just assumed that was my name. I didn't correct her because that asswipe sitting next to you ordered me not to say anything that could possibly link him to you."

"I told you to repair her car, not ask her on a fucking date," Christian seethed. "I told you about me and Ana in the hope that, for once in your life, you'd think with your head and not your dick. I knew you'd chase after her roommate. I should've sent her somewhere else."

"Why does it even bother you, huh?" Elliot frowned and leaned forward, pressing his arms down on the table. "You get to sit back and let everyone else deal with the consequences. It's me and Ana who are gonna get the backlash from this, not you. We're the ones lying to Kate."

"I'm not lying," I interjected.

"Really?" he shot me a look. "You've told her you're screwing a work colleague, the mysterious Mr X. Yeah, I've heard all about it. You know how she feels about him –" he jerked his head in Christian's direction. "You know she'll be crushed when she finds out that you've lied to her."

"I withheld information –"

"It's the same thing," he shook his head at me. "She's supposed to be your best friend –"

"She's also a fucking journalist," Christian cut in. He threw his napkin down on the table, almost knocking his glass of water over. "Katherine Agnes Kavanagh is a journalist at The Seattle Times, has been since June last year."

"You know?" I snapped my head towards him.

"Of course I know," he grunted. "You don't think I ran a profile check to find out who you're living with?"

"If that doesn't scream 'psycho'…" Elliot whistled.

"Enough," Christian ordered in a tone that made me squirm. "We're not doing this here, not in front of Ana."

The air chilled between them. I looked at them both and tried to read the silent conversation they were having. After a few seconds, Elliot reached for his wine glass and stood up from the table.

"Whether you like it or not, I'm going to continue seeing Kate," he announced. "I'm your brother, not an employee, so you don't get to boss me around. I don't get involved in your love life, so don't get involved in mine."

"You have no idea what you're doing," Christian shook his head. "You don't understand the trouble this could cause."

"You're right, I don't understand," Elliot nodded. "I don't understand why you want to keep this a secret, why you're so ashamed of Ana. Is it because she's not on your level, because she's just a bartender in a fucking club where nobody can gain access unless you impress the ice queen of Seattle?"

Christian sighed under his breath and shook his head.

"I don't understand what she sees in you," Elliot tutted. He chugged the rest of his wine and slammed the glass down onto the table. "Fuck this, I'm out of here. It was nice _meeting_ you, Ana."

He stormed out of the room, rocking the door on its hinges. My breaths turned shallow, a feeling of unease working its way up my throat. Christian's hand was still on my knee, his fingers flexed and pressing hard into my thigh. I slid my hand over his and he jerked away, as if he'd forgotten he was even touching me.

"I apologise for his behaviour," he mumbled, his steely gaze fixed on the table cloth. "He was out of order."

"It's okay," I gulped. "I don't blame him for reacting like that."

"You blame me?" he snapped his head my way. There was grief in his eyes.

"No," I shook my head. "I just mean… He obviously cares about Kate so it must be difficult for him, having to keep secrets."

"He's known her for a week. He hardly knows her."

"I hardly know you, but that doesn't stop me caring about you," I replied. "I'm just saying that it's not easy for me to keep this secret, so I can't imagine what it must be like for someone else."

"I can't risk anyone finding out about the club," he reminded me.

"Yes, I know," I sighed. I inhaled a deep breath and raised my hands to my face, covering my eyes. "He's right. Kate is going to hate me if she finds out about us."

"It's nothing to do with her."

"She's my best friend."

"And the last time I checked it wasn't her I'm fucking," he bit back. He picked up his glass and took a gulp.

I let that one slide.

"She hates you, Christian," I told him.

He shrugged. "A lot of people hate me. What's one more to add to the list?"

* * *

Elliot didn't return to the table, didn't even tell anyone that he was leaving. Grace tried to hide her sadness at his sudden disappearance. It was obvious though, the way the bright glint in her eyes diminished as she entered the dining room with a tray of cups.

"I should have guessed he'd come here," Christian dragged me away from my thoughts, stopping his car outside my building.

"Huh?" I shook my head and followed his eye line, noticing an SUV parked behind Wanda.

"That's his other car," he explained.

"Oh, right."

I unclipped my seat belt and picked my purse up from the floor.

"Call me when the coast is clear," he ordered. "I'll come up once they've gone to bed."

I turned my head towards him and slowly shook my head. "No."

"No?" he repeated. "What do you mean, no?"

"You can't stay here tonight –"

He huffed and slumped back into his chair, drumming the heel of his hand on the wheel.

"I haven't seen you since Tuesday morning," he shook his head. "I'm not going another night without you, Ana. I can't."

"You –"

"I _need_ to sleep," he interrupted me again.

"You didn't let me finish," I said firmly. I stretched over and set my hand on his thigh. "I was going to say that you can't stay here tonight, but I'll grab a bag and we can go back to yours."

A trickle relief washing over him. He didn't smile though - he was too pissed off for that. He had been quiet during dinner, but it was so much worse after Elliot had left. His final comments had clearly played on Christian's mind.

"You need to learn to let people talk," I teased, trying to coax something out of him. "My bedroom is a mess. I had a fight with my closet before I came out... Plus, it'd be weird having you and your brother in the apartment. Way too risky."

"Pack for the weekend," he replied quietly. "I want you all to myself. No interruptions. No distractions."

"Two full days together?" I raised my brows.

"Problem?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'll be back in about ten minutes."

"Five," he said. "I'll be counting."

I shook my head at him and plucked my keys from my purse. I hopped out of the car and let myself in. The building was silent until I reached our floor and Kate's infectious giggle began echoing off the walls. It grew louder as I turned the lock and stepped inside the apartment.

"Oh hey, you're back –" Kate snapped her head to the door and flashed me a grin. She was sat on the couch, her body shielding Elliot as he sat beside her. He kept out of view, hiding from me. "Did you have a good night?"

"It was nice," I said coyly. "How was your evening?"

I walked the length of the apartment, heading straight for my room. Elliot didn't look up at me as I passed him, too fixated on the bottle of beer he was holding.

"Quiet, a bit shit," Kate pursed her lips. Her giggle erupted again. She rubbed her hand up Elliot's arm, groping his bicep. "But then this one turned up on the doorstep, out of the blue!"

"Just like that?" I mumbled.

"You didn't even call, did you?" Kate prompted him.

"Nope," he shook his head and smiled at her. "You just can't keep me away."

"Lucky me," she lowered her voice and leaned into him, pecking a wet kiss to his mouth.

I backed away and was about to disappear into my room when Kate beckoned me.

"Did you want to join us?" she asked. "We're ordering pizza."

"No, thank you. I'm still full from dinner," I smiled, patting my hand on my slightly fuller stomach. "I'm actually heading back out. I only came home for an overnight bag."

"The dress worked then?" Kate grinned. She looked back at Elliot. "Doesn't she look great in that dress? It was one of mine, but it didn't suit me."

Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes up and let his gaze hover over my front.

"You look great," he nodded, fixing his blue glare on my cornflower eyes. "Let's hope Mr X appreciates the effort you've made."

I clenched my jaw.

"He'd have to be an idiot not to," Kate chimed in. "Oh, Ana, I almost forgot… I sorted out your clothes. Well, I put everything into piles."

"You did?" I asked, peeking my head inside my room and seeing four neat piles at the foot of my bed.

"Just stuff you might want to get rid of, you know, the clothes you never wear," she explained. "I have some stuff I want to give to the thrift store anyway, so we could take everything together some time. Then maybe we could go shopping? Replenish the stuff we're throwing out?"

"Kate, you shouldn't have…"

She climbed off the couch and bounced towards me. She wrapped her arms around mine and gave me a tight squeeze, nestling her head on my shoulder. Something in my expression told her that I needed a hug.

"Thank you," I muttered, feeling a hard lump in my throat.

"I knew you wouldn't feel like tidying up once you got home," she shrugged against me. "It helped kill some time. It was nothing, really."

"You're amazing. I love you," I told her.

"Duh, of course you do," she laughed. "I mean, who doesn't?"

She pecked a kiss to my cheek and then jolted back, racing towards the bathroom after declaring that she was fit to burst. I smiled. She had never been able handle alcohol – or rather, her bladder can't.

My gaze was drawn back to Elliot, who had risen from the couch and was now making his way to me. He stopped at the end of the couch, taking a seat on the arm. He crossed his feet and arms, eye level to me. I shuffled on the spot, feeling uncomfortable.

"Grace was disappointed that you left," I said after a few seconds. The silence was burning my ears.

"I came for dinner, I didn't tell her I would stay all night," he shrugged. "Let me guess, he's waiting outside for you?"

I nodded. He glanced at the window and sighed.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry for what I said. My problem is with him, not you. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did."

"It's fine," I shook it off. "I know you don't understand, but there is a reason why Christian and I aren't telling people about us. It's complicated."

"It's always complicated where he's concerned," he frowned. "He's my little brother and god knows I love him, but he really tests my patience. The way he thinks he can tell me what to do. I'm thirty-one years old."

"He's just worried that –"

"Don't try to make excuses for him," Elliot shook his head. "He's big enough and ugly enough to fight his own battles."

I rubbed my lips together and leaned back against the wall behind me.

"I'm the first to hold my hands up and say that I've had my fair share of women," he continued. "I like to have fun. But there's something about Kate that just… I don't know, I can't describe it. I really like her."

"She likes you too," I nodded.

"I don't want to lie to her," he said with a frown. "And the longer this is going on, the worse I'm starting to feel. You don't think I want to introduce her to my folks, like Christian has done with you? You don't think I want to tell her my real fucking name?"

"It's just for a little while longer," I tried to protest. "Me and Christian have talked about this. As soon as I've –"

"I'm telling Kate the truth," he blurted. He lifted his eyes up and nodded his head defiantly. "I'm going to tell her who I am and who I'm related to."

"But –"

"When she comes back from vacation, I'm telling her," he promised, though it sounded more like a warning. "He doesn't deserve it but I will stick to my word. I won't tell her about you and Christian. I'll let you do that."

"You're giving me two weeks?" I croaked.

"Kate comes home on April 5th. I'm telling her the night she gets back."

"Elliot..."

"She's your best friend," he reminded me. "Out of anyone, I'm sure you know whether you can trust her or not."

"I'm not afraid of her writing a story on us," I shook my head. "That never even crossed my mind."

"Kate's a smart girl, it won't take her long to work everything out," he added. "So I suggest you start readying yourself to spill the beans. I'm not going to ruin the first good thing that's happened to me in a long time. Not even to save my brother's reputation."

His words echoed Christian's. Although adopted and worlds away in personality and appearance, they are very much alike. Perhaps more so than either of them would like to admit.

I backed up into my room and closed the door behind me. Not only do I have two weeks to find a new job, I also have two weeks to change Kate's opinion of Christian or I risk losing my best friend.

Fuck my life.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Sophiedog22** – Thank you! I'm really glad you liked it. I hope you like this one too. Much Love x

**Piso29** – Thank you! You had a lot of valid questions and I hope they will be answered in this chapter (or over the coming chapters!) I hope you like this update. Much Love x

**Mixed** – Thank you for your review. I think people react in extreme ways when they feel cornered or silenced, which is why Elliot reacted the way he did. I don't necessarily agree with him, just as I don't always agree with what Ana and Christian say/do. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**SuzB** – Thank you! I agree. Now they're on a time limit, things are going to really heat up. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

* * *

**Hello Lovelies!**

**I hope you're all doing well and had a great weekend!**

**As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much for reading and commenting on the last chapter. It always means so much. :) You are a truly wonderful bunch.**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

* * *

"You're quiet," Christian's voice tickled my ear, shocking me from my thoughts. He took a sponge from the edge of the bath and soaked it, before squeezing the warm water over my chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I shook my head against his shoulder.

I was lying against him, his body cradling mine, his feet hooked around my ankles and keeping my legs apart. Every now and then his hand dipped under the water and teased me.

"Tell me what's bothering you," he ordered, splaying his hand across my stomach. He let out a small huffing sound. "Is it what Elliot said? Ana, I told you to just ignore him."

"But he's got a point," I sighed, closing my eyes. "It's not fair to keep lying to Kate. She has a right to know who she's dating."

"There's no point. Elliot will get bored in a few weeks and then he'll never see her again." He rubbed his chin against my shoulder, turning his lips into the crook of my neck and pressing a kiss to the base of my throat. "Elliot doesn't do relationships."

"Neither do you," I countered. He didn't say anything. "I just don't think it's fair to discredit his feelings. Or Kate's," I added. "I could see it in his eyes. He genuinely likes her. You can't fake that look."

"But –"

"This could be a good thing for all of us," I continued. I could feel him preparing his objection, but I shot him down. "Kate's been going through such a rough time recently. She's been miserable, but since she met Elliot things have changed. She's happy. I don't want to ruin that."

Christian blew out a hard breath and leaned away from me, arching his neck against the side of the tub. I felt his chest puff out, his muscles tensing. My eyes focused on the burning candles at the far end of the bath. The flames flickered with the remnants of his sigh.

"She's a journalist, Ana," he finally spoke, his voice full of resign and pressure.

I pulled away and swivelled to face him, curling my knees up to my chest. His eyes were narrow and framed with tired lines.

"Kate wouldn't sell you out," I shook my head. "She'd never do that to me. To anyone, for that matter. She's not that type of person."

"How can you be so sure?" he frowned. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back from his face.

"I know her," I said. "I trust her… I should have trusted her from the beginning."

"It will take her all of five minutes to work out what's going on," he added, slowly shaking his head. "You already told her where we met, that I'm friends with Elena. All she has to do is find one person who is prepared to tell her what goes on in the club and then it's game over. Everyone will know that I'm a sick fuck."

I examined his face for a moment, studying the way he slammed his eyes shut. He was putting up his barriers. Edging forward, I slid towards him and took his face between my hands. As my fingers ran over his jaw, I rubbed the tip of my nose against his. I needed him to let me in.

"You're not sick," I whispered. "Just because you're into something different from the norm, it doesn't –"

"You don't understand," he sighed. He gripped my waist and tugged me into him, water splashing over the side of the tub. "You don't _know_ me."

I merged my lips with his and offered him gentle, coaxing kisses.

"What Elliot said earlier, about you being a psycho," I began, "That unnerved you. Why?"

"I can't talk about that now," he grumbled, closing his eyes. "Not before we go to sleep."

I understood what he meant. He looked exhausted and a part of me wondered if he had slept at all since Monday night. Did his nightmares return because I wasn't with him?

He steered the conversation away from dangerous territory. He kept a firm hold of me, as if he was scared that I would leave him if he let me go.

"You said that Kate hates me. What did you mean?"

I sucked in a deep breath. "Um, she's not your biggest fan," I said coyly. He stared at me, expecting me to elaborate. "Put it this way, she doesn't wish you harm, but she'd probably kick you in the balls if she met you."

He nodded and shrugged in a way that said 'sounds about right'.

"Did you really run a background check on her?" I asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "I needed to know who you were living with."

"And you couldn't ask me outright?"

He pursed his lips.

"You're not used to having actual conversations with people, are you?"

"No," he sighed. "All of this is new to me, and I'm not talking about just the vanilla stuff."

I pushed up and eased myself down onto his lap. He lifted his knees so I could rest against his thighs. His eyes roamed my body, admiring my nakedness and the bubbles sliding down my torso.

"When you looked Kate up, her name didn't ring any bells for you?" I gathered. He shook his head. "Nothing from Washington State University… The college newspaper?"

He wracked his brain for a moment, until finally something flashed in his eyes. His brows lifted, a slight frown consuming his expression.

"She wanted something from me, didn't she?"

"She wanted an interview for a feature," I nodded, putting an end to his misery. "She contacted your office every day for six months, but you said no every time… actually, I think your assistant told her no. I don't think you ever spoke to her personally."

"It would have been my assistant," he nodded. "All of the requests go through Andrea… I don't do interviews. Ever. Sometimes I will release a statement, but that's it."

I already knew this. I'd heard it from Kate and when I did my Google search of him, I realised just how shut off he is from the rest of the world.

"When the _Times_ interviewed her, she said that she would be the first reporter to land a feature on you," I explained. "They offered her the position based on that, so when she failed to get you on board they turned her down. Her dad had to step in and pay them to hire her."

"She shouldn't have promised something she couldn't give them," he mused. "If she had done her research, she'd have known that I never talk to the press."

"Everyone in her office treats her like shit," I continued, choosing to ignore him. "They mock her because she failed. They make her miserable and her boss won't allow her to work on the big stories. Last week, they made her work on a story about the price of salmon increasing."

"I'm sure that's interesting news for some people."

I arched my brow at him. "Salmon, Christian. She's writing stories about fish. She has a 4.0 GPA, for God's sake."

He fell silent again, his eyes scanning the dimly lit bathroom.

"She hates you because she blames you for her work problems," I added when the silence became unbearable. "I know she shouldn't have bragged about it, but we all make mistakes. We all fuck up at some point or another. Don't we?"

"Hmm," he sighed, giving me a brief nod.

"That's why I think it might be good that she's dating Elliot now," I said, holding my hands up as I made my closing argument. "When she finds out who he is, which she will, knowing that you two are related might help soften her feelings toward you."

"Is that important to you?" he asked. "Does her opinion of me really affect us?"

"No, but I don't want to be caught between the two of you," I exhaled. "God, I had enough of that with my mom and Ray when they divorced. I was dragged back and forth while they sorted their shit out. The thought of going through that again…"

His fingers travelled up to my cheek. Gently, he pulled me forward until his lips joined with mine. It wasn't a silencing kiss, but I knew that the conversation was over and no more would be said on the matter. Mr Grey was not for turning.

* * *

I woke to the feeling of something hard and heavy pressing into my side, a familiar weight leaning on to me. It was followed by a throaty groan, possibly from me. I couldn't be sure.

Rolling my head to the side, I caught a whiff of my favourite smell.

_Christian_.

"Sorry," he breathed into my ear as he pressed a kiss to my cheek. I opened my eyes and saw that he was leaning over me, reaching for something on my side of the bed. "It's time to wake up, sleepy head."

He flicked the switch that made the blinds open. The black covers rolled up and filled the bedroom with light. I had no sense of what time it was, just that it was too fucking bright outside.

"Ugh," I groaned, burying my head into my pillow. I grabbed the bedsheets and yanked them up to my chin.

Christian laughed and lay down beside me, spooning me from behind. His hand danced around my waist.

"I like waking up next to you," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"Next to or on top of?" I grumbled.

He laughed again. "If you're going to be pedantic about it, I actually prefer waking up _inside_ you."

Instinctively, the corners of my mouth rose into a smile, my eyes still firmly shut. His fingers pressed into my stomach, possessively.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked him.

"A while."

"Were you watching me sleep?"

"For a while," he hummed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I got up and made some calls, though. You started to stir, I didn't want to wake you. You're so beautiful when you're asleep… Like an angel."

I rolled onto my back and turned my head to him. I was rewarded with a lengthy, wet kiss. He removed his hand from my abdomen and raised it to my face, whereby he began stroking my hair backwards against the pillow.

"Anything interesting?" I asked. He frowned. "Your phone calls?"

"Oh, it was nothing, just work stuff," he shook his head. "And a very brief call with Elliot."

That piqued my interest. My brows raised. "Really? You spoke to him?"

He nodded.

"And? What did you say to him?"

"I asked him to meet me for a coffee," he revealed. "I want to discuss all of this with him. Like adults, this time."

I pressed my lips together. All of our reactions last night were over the top, mine included. It made for a tense and awkward dinner. I made a mental note to get Grace's number from Christian, so I can apologise for how the night played out.

"He had some choice words for me," he continued. "But he agreed to meet with me on Monday. He's spending the weekend with Kate, he said that she's going on vacation next week?"

"She's going to Barbados with her family," I nodded. "She leaves first thing on Monday. I said I'd drive her to the airport."

"Okay," he smiled and granted me another kiss. "I'll just have to make the most of our time alone, before I have to hand you over again."

"Hand me over?"

"To the world," he chuckled under his breath. He ran the back of his fingers down my cheek. "I wish I could keep you here. Have you all to myself."

"You mean hide me away from everyone," I huffed.

I didn't think he had heard me, but the way he cocked his head to the side told me otherwise. He slid his hand under my jaw and forced me to look at him. His voice was deep and sincere.

"That's what you think? That I want to hide you?" I shook his head. "Ana, I've already told you, it's the club that is the problem. Why don't you understand that?"

I hesitated.

"I am a private man but…" he choked slightly. He huffed. "I want to take you to dinner at my favourite restaurants. I want to walk down the street holding your hand. I want everybody to know that you are mine. But it's complicated."

"Christian –"

"Damn it, Ana. I've even considered withdrawing my shares of the club," he grumbled, annoyed now. "I don't want to sneak around anymore than you do. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you, can't you see that? What we have… it's like nothing I've ever experienced."

He hovered over me.

"It will be different once you leave the club," he promised. "We won't have to sneak around. I won't give a fuck who finds out about us. Jesus, I will stand on the roof and fucking shout it for everyone to hear… You are driving me crazy, Ana. I am crazy about you."

I inhaled a deep breath, feeling my chest throb at his words. I knew then what I had to do.

"I need your help," I whispered.

"With what?" he asked, concern flashing through his eyes.

"I need you to find me a job," I said through clenched teeth. He didn't reply. "I need you to force someone's hand, buy me a position, just do whatever you have to do to get me out of Maîtrise."

His eyes narrowed.

"You don't want that," he reminded me.

"What I want and need are two separate things. I want to find a job on my own, but I need out of that place." I pushed my hair back from my face and sat up, clutching the sheets to my chest. I already felt too exposed in that moment. "I need to just swallow my pride and accept the fact that nobody wants to hire me. If you hadn't forced them, Elena and Cal would never have hired me."

He couldn't argue with that.

"Why have you changed your mind all of a sudden?" he asked instead.

There were so many reasons why… the fact that I have a degree and I'm not using it, the deadline Elliot has imposed on me, the wretched feeling I get every time I have to look at Elena Lincoln and her fucking minion Leila. I was desperate to do this on my own, prove that I am capable. The idea of having to rely on somebody, especially a man, pained me. I have seen the way my mother has relied on men – the way she latches onto them. I don't want to be like her. I want independence.

I want Christian to want me and care for me, of course I do, but I don't want to feel indebted to him.

His grey eyes narrowed again, fixated on mine.

"No," he announced.

I jerked my head back. "What? What do you mean, no?"

"I am not going to buy you a job," he said. "You don't want that. I can see it in your eyes."

"I –"

"If I do that for you, you will end up resenting me," he interrupted. "Now, get your ass out of bed and get dressed. We have work to do." He clapped his hands together and climbed off the bed. He stood naked and erect, his hands on his hips. "I'm not going to force anyone to hire you, but I will get you an interview. Even if it fucking kills me."

"What?"

"I can make some calls on your behalf," he explained. He turned and headed for the door. "I'll drop some hints and suggest that you'd make a good candidate for the role. It should get you inside the building, at least."

"How, exactly, is that going to work?" I frowned. "How are you going to mention me without having to explain how we know each other?"

"Just let me deal with the logistics of this," he shot back. He was a man on a mission and he was eager to get started. "I need you to draw up a list of places you'd like to work. Places you would die to work in. I don't want you settling for a shitty receptionist job that you'll hate within hours of starting, okay? Aim for the best from the very beginning."

And with that he flung open the bedroom door and disappeared into the main body of the apartment, taking himself and his morning glory away from me.

Thank heavens Mrs Jones doesn't work weekends…

* * *

Christian sauntered back into his office and slid a large plate in front of me. He didn't say a word, no warning, no explanation, just moved back behind his desk and dropped into his chair. I looked up and frowned at him, watching as he seamlessly returned to his computer. I was sat opposite him, in a much less comfortable chair than his, hunched over his iPad.

"What's that?" I asked, eyeing the plate with suspicion. It was full of crackers and an assortment of cheeses, as well as a large bunch of grapes.

"It's a spaceship," he replied tersely, his eyes fixed on his screen. "What does it look like?"

"Really?" I arched my brow. He dragged his eyes to me. "I know what it is, I meant why did you go fetch it?"

"It's something to snack on, in case you feel hungry," he shrugged.

"We had lunch less than thirty minutes ago," I reminded him. I was rewarded with a sharp look that immediately had me on the backfoot. I recalled our conversation about his food issues. "Sorry, I forgot."

"You really need to stop apologising so much," he said, softening his expression somewhat. "Anybody would think you were British or something. All they seem to do is apologise. It's annoying."

I rolled my lips inward, suppressing a smile.

"I'll try to reign it in. Sorry."

He shot his head up and I burst into laughter. His reaction was priceless. Slowly, his lips turned up into a smile too.

"How many times have you been to the UK?" I asked.

"I've lost count. I make at least ten trips a year."

"Is it just London you visit?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I have an office there, in the city, but I have connections all over the UK and Ireland. I always try to arrange my meetings in London."

"Why?"

"Convenience, mostly," he shrugged. "I've visited Glasgow, Birmingham, Cardiff, but nothing quite compares with London. It has a unique energy. It's hard to describe it."

"I'd love to go there one day," I hummed, pressing my elbows onto the desk and then dropping my chin onto my hands.

Christian smiled at me and nodded his head. He stared at me for a moment before looking back at his computer, something grabbing his attention. He began typing manically.

With a sigh, I sat back and brought the iPad to life. The homepage for an independent publishing house was on the screen.

We had been at this all morning – me, searching and compiling a list of the various publishers in and around Seattle; Christian, sending emails and making calls to so many different people, asking whether they had an opening for me. He already had his own list of places to check out. I was shocked when he showed me the scrap of paper he'd been hiding for weeks. He explained that as soon as he'd learnt that I had an interest in publishing, he had begun scouting the field for me. It was amazing, the effort he'd put into the task. Just to help me out.

"Are you almost done with that?" Christian asked, sliding his chair across the floor until he was at my side. He looked down at the piece of paper I'd been writing my notes on. "I just need a list to work from, for now. To get the ball rolling."

I studied my handwriting for a moment longer. I had whittled down my options, selecting just five publishers. Three were based in Seattle, the nearest only fifteen minutes from my apartment. The remaining two were a bit further away: Vancouver and Portland. It would mean a bitch of a commute, but beggars can't be choosers. And this beggar really doesn't give a shit anymore.

"Yeah," I nodded and passed the paper to him. He examined the list. "Is that okay?"

"I recognise some of these," he smiled. He pointed at the name at the top of the page. "Seattle Independent Press. That's not far from GEH."

I turned the iPad to him and showed him the company's website.

"I like the look of them," I said. "Do you think you'll be able to get me an interview?"

"Ana," he sighed my name. "Don't underestimate my abilities. When I want something, I always get it."

"I'm sure you do," I exhaled, my cheeks burning under his stare. "You wanted me from the moment you saw me."

"I tried to stay away from you," he revealed in a quieter tone. "When Caleb told me about you, I promised myself that I wouldn't pursue you. I didn't want to debase you."

"If I hadn't called you when my car broke down, would you really have stayed away?" I wondered.

"Yes," he nodded. He looked down at my hands and scooped them up, squeezing them between his warm palms. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm glad that piece of junk you call a car broke down."

"Hey!" I shot back. "She's a classic… But for what it's worth, I'm glad you were my knight in a shiny sports car."

He snorted a laugh.

"I was your last resort," he shook his head, still grinning.

"Maybe." I lifted off my seat and stepped between his thighs. I cupped his cheeks and held him still as I kissed his lips. "You might have been my last resort, but you're the one I _really_ wanted that night… the one I want now. Right here."

He grappled my hips as he stood up, pushing me backwards until I was up against the desk. He reached around me and cleared a spot for me. I climbed up onto the hard wood, parting my legs for him.

His hands fisted deep into my hair, his lips ravishing my jaw, throat, chest. I could have ripped his clothes off with my teeth, I was that desperate for him.

"We're supposed to be working," I teased him, looping my fingers around his waistband.

"It can wait," he growled.

* * *

Monday arrived too quickly, the weekend passing in a euphoric blur of nakedness, panting, and eagerly checking our cell phones every hour, waiting for news on the job front. Neither of us heard anything. Though, that was to be expected, nobody likes replying to emails at the weekend.

I showered, dressed and had breakfast with Christian, before he drove me home at 8am. We kissed goodbye and I watched as he sped off, beeping his horn as he turned the corner and disappeared from view.

I opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside, almost stumbling over the large suitcase lying open on the floor.

"Jesus," I gasped, only just managing to regain my footing. I carefully climbed over the case, throwing my keys on the counter. "Kate?"

At the sound of her name, Kate rushed out of her bedroom in a state of undress. She was wearing just a pink tank top and her too-small pyjama shorts. She had a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

"I know," she mouthed, acknowledging herself. "We overslept."

"We?" I repeated. "Is… Lee still here?"

"No, he left a while ago," she shook her head and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. She returned with a towel pressed to her mouth. "Are you still okay to drive me to the airport?"

"Absolutely," I smiled. She breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that.

"I thought we could take my car," she said. "I figured you could borrow my car while I'm away. It's more reliable than yours."

_Jeez, why is everyone anti-Wanda? She's a great car…_

"My car is running fine since she was fixed," I reassured her. I paused for a moment. "But I might borrow it tomorrow, if that's okay? I'm heading to Portland for José's exhibit."

Kate frowned at me. "You're actually going to that?"

"He's my friend," I defended my choice.

"He tried to stick his tongue down your throat," she protested. "You really wanna risk that happening again?"

"Ray will be there," I shrugged. "I promised him we'd go for dinner afterwards. Besides, José apologised for what happened. He knows how I feel about him."

"Hmm," she hummed, unconvinced. "Make sure you stay close to Ray, yeah? I like José but he's like a puppy-dog around you. It's weird."

I had to agree with her on that one. A small part of me always knew he wanted to take our friendship to the next level, but I hoped he would have grown out of it. I hoped he'd have found himself a girlfriend. He's been single for as long as I've known him.

Kate busied herself in her room, changing into some jeans and an oversized t-shirt that I suspected to be Elliot's. She came into the kitchen and paused at the counter, her hands taming her blonde hair into a topknot.

"I think I have everything," she said. "Lee helped me check my bags last night."

She examined the various items laid out in front of her.

"Sunglasses, tickets, passport, phone…" she picked up each object in turn. "I'm sure that's it."

"Positive?"

She hesitated and then nodded.

"Let's hit the road, Jack," she grinned. "Barbados, here I come!"

* * *

We reached Sea-Tac airport with almost an hour to spare, parking up before her parents had even left their house. The heavens had opened, cold rain drizzling onto the windscreen. _Thank god for drive-thru fast food_, I thought as I sipped my iced tea.

"I wish you were coming with us." Kate rolled her head against her seat and smiled at me. She nursed her cup of coffee, blowing over its steaming surface. "We could be sitting by a pool, sipping cocktails."

"We'll arrange something when you get back," I promised. "A long weekend somewhere, just the two of us."

"You mean it?"

"Cross my heart," I smiled as I flicked my finger over my chest, making an X shape. Her lips spliced into a grin. "I mean, we don't even need to go that far. We could drive down to Cali or something."

Before she could reply, her phone pinged loudly from inside her jeans pocket.

"That will be my mom," she hummed. She dropped her cup into one of the holders and pulled out her cell. She swiped the screen and opened up whatever message she'd just received.

"Are they here yet?" I asked, looking out of the window and trying to spot her father's white SUV.

Kate was silent for what felt like an age. I turned my head towards her and saw that her mouth was hanging open, a shocked expression absorbing her petite features.

"Kate?"

"Shit…"

"What is it?"

"Oh my god."

I frowned at her. I sat up and set my tea down.

"Kate?" I tried to gain her attention again. She was starting to worry me.

"Ohmigod," she gasped. "Oh. My. God."

I reached across and clamped my hand onto her elbow, giving her a shake.

"Kate!" I snapped. She shot me a stunned look. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

She didn't say anything. She shoved her phone in my face, demanding that I read her message. I nervously accepted the phone from her and glanced down at the opened email.

* * *

**To: Katherine Kavanagh**

**Subject: RE: Interview.**

**Date: 03/26/2012 09:37:46**

**From: Christian Grey**

Dear Miss Kavanagh,

It has recently been brought to my attention that you have previously contacted my office with regards to setting up an interview with me. I believe this was for a feature for your former college newspaper.

I apologise for the extremely late reply. However, if you are still interested in meeting with me, I would like to arrange this with you. Please call the number in the signature below and ask for my assistant, Andrea, to arrange a time and date.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

"Oh my god," I sighed, finding myself panting for breath. My brows shot up my forehead, my eyes darting to Kate. She was now bubbling with excitement. "He emailed you?"

"I don't get it either," she laughed. She covered her mouth with her hands. She was visibly shaking.

"I can't believe this," I whispered. I read the email again, checking that it was still there. "But he doesn't do interviews…"

"He does now," Kate grinned. "Ana, this is incredible! I can't believe he _finally_ said yes. After all this time." She took her phone back and held it close to her chest, as if it was now her most prized possession. "Fuck… I wonder what made him change his mind. I haven't called his office in months."

"I have no idea."

"Well, whoever is responsible for this," she began, "I could plant a wet one on them. This is amazing. I can't believe it."

"Me neither," I shook my head.

"I'm going to get a full-page for this," she grinned, falling back against her seat. "Oh my god."

We fell silent, shock and amazement circling us both.

I reached down and picked up my phone from the well between me and Kate. I needed to talk to him. I tapped out a text:

**_Kate just got your email. I don't know what to say._**

His reply came immediately.

**If it will help make things easier for you, I'm happy to do this. For you, Ana. C x**

**_Thank you. Thank you so much! She's so happy! x_**

**Are you happy? C x**

**_I'm more than happy! Shocked. Overwhelmed. Grateful. So very grateful. Thank you, Christian! I really owe you one for this! x_**

**That's all that matters to me – that you're happy. You don't owe me anything. I'll see you tonight. C x**

I felt my heart beating frantically in my chest. My fingers rested over its place, half expecting it to smash out of my chest and spill red hot lava down my front. I could feel it swelling, growing three sizes bigger.

Christian Grey is mercurial and moody and he never ceases to amaze me. I shook my head and stared out of my window. A gap appeared in the clouds, a small patch of blue sky making an appearance.


End file.
